Chrysalis Book 2: Rebirth
by Katzilla
Summary: Human-alien-relations. Androids. Telepathy. The worst killer in human history. Need I say more? Go, read (and review)! :-) And again, huge thanks to my co-writer and beta-reader Anise!
1. Chapter 1

****

ALIENS: CHRYSALIS

Book 2: Rebirth

All is dark and quiet in the mighty artificial moon circling a nameless red planet in a still unexplored sector of the universe. It is night time, and only few of its inhabitants are up, doing whatever they signed up for: watch the sparse traffic, ensuring the station is running smoothly as it's been doing for over two and half years now, the entire time-span of its existence. Within the hundreds of quarters inside, the majority of it's population is sleeping, unaware of a presence in their midst that is probing, scanning, collecting data upon data about them and storing it away for the moment that it knows will come. Not now, not anytime soon, but it _will_ come. It's always the same. The collective mind is full of these incidents, spanning hundreds and even thousands of years. In the darkness of level 13, the mind is patiently waiting for its time to come.

It is growing and its bodies multiply almost on a daily basis. And it's a strong mind, too, a unique mind that is keeping all the fulfillers of its commands in order, ties their strong bodies together and evolves them into something bigger, each of them eager to please the hive-mind. None of its orders are ever denied. If it sends them to their death, so be it. Death has no meaning for the single being. The hive-mind, bundled and transmitted from their supreme ruler, is the only thing that matters. It is infinitely more important than the single extension, the single drone that serves it. It must survive at all costs, for her thoughts are life, and whatever it decides to ensure its survival is accepted and carried out by its servants without questioning. There are not too many of them to serve it in this location, yet, but their number is increasing, and with them the strength of the stream. Every now and then, they lose a presence, but on the whole they are getting stronger, and stronger still. But they are not strong enough yet to survive in this hostile world. The hive-mind knows that these are not its natural surroundings. They are being kept at a very confined space, a space almost too limited for their needs. There is nothing here to hunt, and whenever the queen sends her servants against the soft-shelled things which take them away, she finds that they can't hurt them. A shield of energy protects them that she doesn't have the power to penetrate, yet. But she's learning. She can adapt to new situations. And she will find a way for her hive to endure, as always.

They grow. They breed. They're patient. They can wait.

***

"It's using the ventilation system to get around. That's why the trackers can't pick it up."

"That's just great. And what now? We can't crawl through every little duct and- sshhh... Hear that?"

"Yes..."

"It's coming for us! Oh my God, run!"

The slender woman turns and flees down the dark corridor, the man – probably the captain of the old freighter – close behind her. The ominous noise of claws raking over metal approaches from behind and passes next to Hicks' right shoulder, so close, he can even feel the rush of air its origin creates. He doesn't bother to look up, not even when a wet ripping sound, followed by a muffled cry, indicates that the slow captain bought it at the intersection. These horror-movies are all the same. Predictable down to the last word of dialogue. Not that the dialogue usually matters in those movies. Sometimes it's so dumb, it's hardly bearable. No people Hicks knows in the transstellar transportation business would talk like that. In fact, they barely talk at all – they're lying in their cryo-chambers most of the time and sleep the deep sleep for months or even years. Funny they're still making movies like this one. Must be a B-movie. What good is the use of 3-D illuso-technology in a movie, if you're getting laughing fits because the story's sucking so bad? His old squad would have had a field day taking this excellent piece of crap apart, especially Hudson. Christ... he can almost here old Will's sardonic alterations of the dialogue, making them all crack up with laughter, and the sting is sudden and sharp. It's been two full months since he woke up in this place, and he's been carrying around the pain of the loss even before they 'rescued' him, but so far it has not diminished. Sure, on good days he can walk around and banish the memories for a few hours or so, but the dull, throbbing feeling of loneliness will eventually return to haunt him... if not during the daytime, then in his sleep.

Briefly marveling at the question of who among the inmates voted for this splendid example of human failure on their weekly movie-night, he sticks the cigarette he dug out of his pocket into the little hole in the wall that is just there for this single purpose – a lighter. Like everything else a device that's been thought-through: Since it's not transportable, the prisoners – he's come around to calling himself that – can't do anything stupid with it, like setting their rooms on fire. Oh sure, you could still set it on fire with your ciggy ... for one, maybe two seconds – before they'd dumb a bathtub's worth of water on you from the ceiling to put it out. But nobody would act this stupid – they know their smoking privilege would be forfeit as soon as some idiot misused it. And nobody would ever want for that to happen. Strange enough that W.Y. even cares to supply their lowly lab-rats with anything as luxurious as cigarettes, but then again, a happy lab-rat is prone to causing less problems, right? It's nothing but simple, easy conditioning – be a good dog, and you get nicotine, acceptable food and entertainment. Be a bad dog, and the food's tasteless and looks like last month's left-overs, they lock you into your cell, switch off the entertainment center and bore you out of your skull for a day or two. And the others will be angry with you, too, because thanks to you there will be no movie on the illuso-channel this week. Just one screw-up is enough to make everybody suffer. And maybe, maybe they'll be a bit slower than usual, too, up there behind the all-seeing cameras to activate the guy's pacifier only _after _he's split your lip with a roundhouse punch as a 'thank you'. 

Hicks sighs soundlessly and takes a deep draw on his cigarette. Oh yeah, he knows the system all right. After almost nine weeks in this facility, he's figured out just about everything as to things work around here. What one would have to do to cause trouble. How to avoid it. And how to make the most of what he got dealt here. This place is dangerous. Not uncomfortable, oh no. There's a lot of fancy stuff around here to make one forget one's status and one's situation. Lots of nice gadgets to create fun and entertainment as long as one behaves, more luxury than he even had back home ... lots of stuff to lull anybody into a false feeling of normality. Everything's fine and dandy for days, sometimes even weeks, you get along with the other inmates, too... and then you show up at breakfast one morning to find they took another one of your group last night. Another person who will never be heard from again. Bad enough to think about what might have happened to the poor sap, but the real devastating blow is the underlying fact that their number has once again dropped, and that slowly, but surely, that same destiny is sneaking up on you, too. 

At first, Hicks thought he'd get accustomed to the procedure, but as time goes by and more people disappear, he finds the eerie feeling of fear crawling up his spine gets worse with each incident. Sooner or later, it will be his turn, and there's no telling when. In fact, he could already be the next one to get tragically lost. And why not? While he's still a far cry from the condition he was in before the Acheron-trip, he's already on the road to recovery, wandered down it far enough even for himself to not be horrified by seeing his face in the mirror each morning anymore. His leg has healed enough for him to use it again. Sure, he's still limping, but he's making good progress. And what about Raven? It must be between the two of them who's next, since they are the only ones left of the batch he was dropped into eight and a half weeks ago. 

This morning, von Sontheim was gone. The discovery unhinged him badly. It had been a real blow to the gut. He hadn't been ready for it. He had allowed himself to be lured into that feeling of false security since it had been a while since the last one of the group disappeared. Had been too preoccupied, too busy with his plans, too busy plotting their escape. Von Sontheim, who had become a good friend of his in the past weeks, a keen, observing man of high intelligence, should have played a pivotal role in his elaborate little scam. He had given Hicks a reason to hope, to not despair...had added to his plan and refined it ... and now he is gone, and Hicks feels the remains of his optimism deflating like a balloon, with the bright, colorful fabric crumbling and falling from the sky in a disarrayed heap. So, what now? What the hell is he supposed to do now? With Keisha not acting as he asked her to and Axel gone, all that's left to him in order to avoid the destiny W.Y. has in store for him seems to be to smoke himself to death this very night... which right now looks like a pleasant way for him to go, but rather unrealistic to achieve. 

Forming a little 'O' with his lips, he lets out a sophisticated ring of smoke and watches it trail off to the ceiling, where it collides with the illuso-created creature which is still hunting the heroine. And notices a massive presence next to him. Raven. He doesn't have to look to know he's there, sliding into a seat behind him. The others reactions – turned heads and anxious murmuring, nervous vibes all over the room – are enough to betray the very real beast in their midst. 

"Did I miss something?" The big man doesn't care to tone down his voice. He doesn't care whether he's disturbing anyone. And nobody dares to turn his head. They're all frightened of him after that incident when he took apart their leader on their first day here. Sent him down to the floor like a stone with just one violent blow with his brow to the man's mouth, making him cough teeth before they zapped him again to separate the two combatants. Raven – he's got a skull of iron. Hicks fingers briefly and unknowingly trace the seven stitches over his left brow. He almost smiles. Yup, Raven's responsible for this one, too… only that he asked for it. Probably a first for the giant to have someone step up to him and ask whether he could have his head smashed in,but he needed to talk to Keisha. Had to see her, and this was the only way he could think of to accomplish it. He's got to give his partner-in-crime credit though – he knew exactly what he was doing. _'Just a minor cut, please, nothing serious. I cannot afford a headache, I need to be able to think. But enough to let them keep me there for the night. Can you do that?'_ Oh yes, Raven delivered exactly what he asked for… and got zapped for it, of course. It looks awful, that punishment. Painful! Enough to scare off all potential trouble-makers… just not him. After they charged him with a couple of hundred volts straight through the spine, making him writhe on the floor and bite his lip and tongue, Raven just got up, wiped his mouth and showed a bloodied grin to the cameras. Pain, obviously, can't touch him. They can throw him to the floor again and again, but they can't teach him respect or bring him to fear them. 

But those stitches… seems to Hicks he got them in vain. He believed to have penetrated that barrier of fear surrounding Keisha. He would have placed any bet she would agree to help him...to help herself. But it's been five days now since he spilled his plan to her, and yet nothing happened. He should have known and should have kept his hopes low – after all, Keisha's just a 17 year old girl, not a marine. Of course she's got a right to be scared. If the plan fails, she's just as likely to get her head chopped off over this as Raven and he. And, let's face it, Hicks admits to himself, there's plenty of room for failure. No matter how hard they were trying to think of something simple – since complicated things are just bound to go wrong – the only thing they managed to come up with depends on coincidence, luck, and only little skill. If they don't have fortune on their side, then there's nothing they can do to compensate for it. It's not a plan Hicks is happy or even satisfied with. But while _they_ don't have another option, _she_ does. Even if it means spending her entire life in a place she hates, doing things she can't justify to herself - she won't get wasted for the sake of humanity… because this is what Axel and he figured out to be their purpose. It's her choice to make, and with each passing day, it becomes more apparent to him that she did. Now what?

He exhales another cloud of smoke and turns his head just the tiniest bit, acknowledging he's heard Raven's rhetorical question.

"Not really. Nice FX, dumb characters, predictable like a calendar." Even though the movie is nearing its climax with the sound of gunshots and yelling, he keeps his voice low, doesn't want to be caught openly fraternizing with the killer by the observers behind the cameras. Yes, Raven is the only one left here who speaks his language and thus the logical choice for conversation, but he is, well, a mass murderer, too. Axel told him the story. Raven is not someone Hicks would have chosen for company, let alone as a friend, if he wouldn't have deemed it absolutely necessary. Early on, von Sontheim and he figured they would need the big man for their plan, would need the effect of that human animal running around uncontrolled by the pacifier on whoever would try and stand between them and escape. And, very likely, they would have to depend on his raw power, too. No way they would be able to make it out of here without getting into some kind of confrontation. So, they let him in on their scheme. Careful, as not to draw too much attention to themselves. So far, they've been lucky. Nobody seems to suspect anything. But then, nothing is going to happen as long as the most pivotal figure in their plan doesn't decide to join the game.

"Oh well…" Raven leans back and bites into an apple, right when the creature before them takes a bite out of the heroine's sidekick's brain. He smirks and ignores the few angry glares the others dare to give him. "Girlie got scared, huh? You were wrong."

"We'll see." Hicks doesn't really want to admit it, at least not out loud. Deep inside, he knows the big man is right.

"C'mon, it's been five days now." Raven shakes his bald head. "I'm not going to stay up all night again . She won't do it." He pauses for a second, taking another bite, before he adds with a shrug: "Who knows, maybe they'll even come for us tonight. And maybe tomorrow she'll do it and there'll be nobody left to climb up to her… except maybe these other bozos here. Wouldn't that be a riot?" He lets out a dry laugh and catches a glimpse of someone glaring at him from two rows in front of him before the man hastily turns his head and pretends to follow the movie. "What, shithead? Got a problem?"

"You asking to get torched tonight, too?" Hicks asks flatly, his eyes glued to the bloody scene in front of him. "Maybe tonight's the night, and you'll have to stay behind because you can't move."

"Ah, well, don't tell me you still believe in that," is the reply. "We're done for. And if that's how I'm supposed to go out, then the least I want is a little more fun along the way."

Suddenly, Hicks feels he's had enough for the day. Letting out the last smoke through his nose, he throws the stump of his cigarette into the waste chute and gets up. 

"Where are you going? The slaughter ain't over yet. The fun stuff's still to come!" Raven apparently finds the massacre of the astronauts stimulating. 

"Yeah… I already had enough fun for today, thanks."

He leaves the illuso-deck and hunkers down the stairs to the empty main hall. Someone apparently decided to go back to basics, since there's neither the beach nor the Japanese tea-garden scenery to garnish the cold hard truth of what this place really is. Nothing but naked steel and plastic, and curious camera-eyes watching his every step. The light's down to energy-saving mode like every evening, and in about half an hour, after the general lock-down, it'll be switched off entirely. Deep in thought, Hicks limps down the hall and passes the empty tables and seats. The deserted, sterile place is enough to give him the shivers. It's almost as if he can see the ghosts of the people he used to sit together with during each breakfast, each lunch and each dinner, until – one by one they disappeared. That's Axel's chair over there. _Was_… Axel's chair. He swallows, turns his eyes away, the sound of his own hollow-sounding footsteps accentuating the sudden fit of loneliness he's feeling. A psychopath and a bunch of people he can't understand, that's all he's left with.

Hicks walks faster and leaves the mess behind. A short way down the corridor, and then the confined space of his cell, paradoxically evoking a strange feeling of coming home in him. Home… the bitter taste of despair sneaks up against the fortress-like walls of his self-control. Home… he'll never see home again… his friends… family… they're all nothing more to him now than blurry shadows from another life. And a young girl is his only chance to find a way out, a way to survive… but she is too afraid of actually walking down that road.

It takes a mighty effort to clear his head, to just throw himself onto the couch and activate the entertainment center for another round of W.Y.'s sophisticated ego-shooters. Maybe it's not really smart to put in the ear-plugs and kill his sight by putting on the visor, but Raven's right: It's over. Nothing will happen, not tonight, not tomorrow night. He doesn't want to think of it any more, and the game will keep him occupied, maybe even enough to break the circle of pitch black thoughts he's captured in. Kill a few monsters. Kill many. Kill them by the hundreds… and imagine it's _them…_

***

"I really thought I'd found it this time, I really did!" Darwin – completely out of character – paces like a tiger in her office, and the traces of heart-felt frustration –as much as I can tell them – are clearly visible on her young face. I know enough to keep my mouth shut and let her vent her anger at nobody specific, while my mind replays the past hours, my eyes glued on the scene I can see through the window. They're finally done cleaning up the mess, and the black body bag is ready to be brought down to the furnace. There will be no trace left of Weyland Yutani's biggest enemy after the next half an hour… nothing but a few blood samples and cell cultures which Darwin will examine later tonight to figure out what went wrong this time. My inner eye still sees the body convulse on the table, and I hear the anguished grunts as clearly as if it happened right at this moment. I could even share my accurate, detailed, high-definition memories with any person I'd choose by simply downloading it onto a computer. I briefly wonder why there are no synthetics in the entertainment industry – they could make their movies out of thin air without ever hiring a single person! All they'd have to do is dream up a story and a few people and record it. It sounds so hair-raisingly easy, it's a wonder to me at this moment that there are, in fact, none of my artificial brothers and sisters who will ever be famous for their imagination. The explanation, however, is so obvious, it doesn't stay hidden from me for more than a mere few moments: I'm a prototype. I'm probably the only android – A.I. – in the whole wide galaxy to possess the capability to dream, to fantasize. People don't want us for our imagination – they created the androids to do their dirty work. Hard work nobody in their right mind would agree to do. Cleaning. Moving around heavy stuff. Doing lengthy repair work in space, because nobody wants to be stuck in an uncomfortable suit in the middle of nowhere for more than just a couple of hours. They developed us solely to have someone they could dump all their unpopular orders on without having to fear receiving a single word of resistance ever. They made us smart and gave us speech so that they wouldn't have to extract the data they needed from the files themselves. Just ask the walking computer, he'll know! They programmed us with all kinds of fancy stuff to make life easier and comfortable for them, but they never see us as actual persons. Why give us something as frivolous and potentially dangerous as the capacity to think for ourselves? The capacity to dream, to desire, to wish for something? Naw… too expensive. And it would greatly increase the danger of one of us actually saying _'No'_ to one of their demands one of these days. Unthinkable, right? I feel a trace of sorrow for my artificial brothers and sisters.

"You're not listening, Isis!" 

I wake from my musings to find my human alter ego staring at me.

"But I am!" I protest. "You suggested we should sedate them next time before the treatment. Sedate them, or momentarily paralyze them to prevent them from breaking their spines during the spasms. I agree." She narrows her eyes. 

"You _didn't_ listen… I saw it on your face! You were probably thinking of doing Alexander while I was asking your advise! You recorded it somehow and just replayed it. "

"I –" I'm dumbfounded at her reply. Did I hear that right? If I were human, I'd probably blush now, but being who I am I decide just to ignore her assumption. Is it that obvious Alexander and I are _'an item'_ again, as they say? "I don't know how I'm doing it," I finally admit to calm her down. Where's her usual cool self tonight? Could von Sontheim's violent death be the source of her distress? It's been ugly, yes. And yet even more disturbing, it's not what she predicted! Maybe it's more the feeling of having failed than the gory sight of Lab 1 after the treatment that's so disturbing to her. Failure's not an option for Phooka's very own genius! "But it's all the same since even though I was thinking about something else, I heard everything you said. And yes, I agree." The icy expression in her blue eyes melts a little as she turns again and shakes her head to herself.

"It's that fifth amino acid, I'm sure. It's a bitch! I thought I had it figured by now. It should have worked." She sighs, her eyes briefly following my gaze. They're taking the body away. A long, uncomfortable moment of silence follows, before she mumbles to herself: "I didn't want for this to happen, dammit…" I raise my eyebrows at what I believe to be an uncharacteristic show of compassion, evoking an instant reaction from her. "He was valuable. He was intelligent. I'm sure he would have been able to cope with the changes, no matter what they were." Another heavy sigh. "It will be hard to find another, equally suited test person like him. We've only got our three most valuable objects left now … and I cannot dare to risk their lives as long as we haven't figured this out.. Those new ones, they're no good for the project. They're very… plain… people." She means 'dumb'. "Those three have got to make it, or Kurtz will chop off my head with delight. I don't want to give the bastard that kind of satisfaction." She's back to staring at me. Probably to show me how important the matter is to her.

"So what now? You want me to stay here and help you solve the problem?" I shrug. "You know it's not a problem for me… but, if I may say so, you look very tired… as far as I remember, you've been up for the past 48 hours straight… at least!" This gets a thin, humorless smile from her.

"What's this, Isis? Your software turning you into mother-hen?"

"What?"

"Nevermind." The ghost-smile is gone as fast as it appeared. "I can do it, don't worry. I need to find the reason fast. I _want_ to find it. It's about time we started making progress." She stops and stares at me once again, only – differently this time. And now I'm feeling it, too, something like a very distant, low growl. It rises up from the floor, vibrations that climb up our bodies through the soles of our boots, suddenly ending with a twin-clap of thunder we can't hear, only feel. Something bad has just happened. "What the hell was _that_?" She cranes her neck, reflexively checking out the fluorescent lights over our heads, but there isn't as much as a flicker. She turns towards the VidCom, but before she reaches it, Kurtz's urgent-looking face is already on the monitor.

"Darwin, Isis? What's your status? Is everything all right?"

"Positive," Darwin states matter-of-factly, while I'm still checking on the readouts and various lights and gauges. She appears to be right. "What-"

"How is Lab 1? Are the stasis-shields still working? What about the hives?"

"I told you – everything's working as it should. Now, what happened? We felt some-"

"I don't know yet. We've got a total blackout in the west-wing. The entire wing is without power. Lights, doors, elevators, cameras, communication, everything…"

"What about the infirmary?" I ask, knowing that they normally have their own power generator for exactly this kind of emergency, but since we don't know the scope of the problem as well as its origin - "Can you already tell where the problem occurred? Was there an explosion?"

"I don't know anything yet, except that we're on red alert." He sounds extremely anxious and annoyed. "You know what a power-loss in west Wing means, don't you?"

"You mean the 'Zoo'." Darwin still sounds cool, but we all know how bad the situation could get. She checks her chronometer. "It's 1.00 a.m. They're probably all asleep… if the explosion didn't wake them up... or roast them."

"We can't tell. The cameras don't work, and the VidPhones won't work, either. Neither do the lights or the micros. Until we know more about the situation, you stay in Lab 1. Isis, I want you to meet me in my office in five minutes. And bring all synthetics you can summon! We may have a major crisis at hand here. Hurry up!" His face disappears, leaving us to stare at each other. Only slowly do we realize that there are others looking at us, too. Lab 1 personnel like Skin, alarm on their inquisitive faces. I give Darwin a brief nod.

"I must go. I'll fill you in as soon as I have the time." We could have a man-eating maniac running around in the west Wing this very second. Plus a blood-thirsty lynch-mob eager to give back all they've received from us so far. The main switch for the pacifiers is out as well, if I understood Kurtz correctly. This leaves us with only the individual pacifiers… but you'd have to come as close as 10 meters to the subjects to switch them off… I understand my boss's distress and make haste...

***

His enemy faints to the left, drops to the floor and shoots, but Hicks has anticipated his move and is already ducking, hearing the high whine of the pellet pass directly over his head. One... two... '_Behind_ _me!'_ He turns and sees one of the enormous airborne fighters come his way, knows he must leave at once! He's doesn't have the power to crack this one just yet, not before he's found the – everything goes black. And quiet. What now? Is he hit? End of game? He should have one life left, given the score he remembered from about two minutes back. Did they strike him unconscious? He waits impatiently for a couple of seconds longer, then gently shakes the visor. Nothing. No sight, no sound. Did the game crash? Was he too good? 

Smiling to himself acidly, Hicks takes out the ear-plugs and lifts the visor from his eyes – and pauses. The same, solid blackness envelops him, solid enough to drown in. No starry twinkling night sky from the illuso-generator, no soft red glow from the entertainment center. Reflexively, he waves his hand right in front of his face without seeing it and hears the creaking of the gloves he's wearing, far too loudly. It's pitch black. A moment of utter confusion and the feeling of displacement, of sitting inside a bubble outside the real world. It's shattered by a one-two combination of his heart jumping into his throat and his mind screaming: _'This is it! Move!'_

He's on his feet and rips the gloves off his hands before he even knows what he intends to do. _'The plan, think of the plan!'_ It's easier said than done with his brain still in that numb state of shock, still denying that this is in fact the one chance he's been waiting for, the chance he didn't think would come anymore, as he stumbles towards the door with outstretched hands and almost falls over the edge of the couch. _'Come on, man_, _get a grip!' _

Forcing himself to take three deep breaths, he hunts for the tiny fissure where the two parts of the door meet, struggling to work his fingers into it as invaluable seconds pass. Faster, faster! He finds a little hold, pulls. The door is no longer locked, but it's heavy, and his efforts open it just a couple more millimeters. Doubling his efforts, he can't help but wonder what Raven's doing. What if he's really sleeping, like he said? He could climb up the shaft to where Keisha's waiting alone – but what then? He's not going to make it without more help. It can't be that easy to escape from here! He can't do it alone, even if running over to Raven's cell and pushing his door open manually, too, will lose them serious time, and Kee told him about the fierce security in those elevator shafts. If they're still inside when the power returns, they'll be cut into neat slices by the protective laser net. Grunting and panting, he somehow manages to pry the door open, just in time to see the red emergency lighting come on. What does it mean? Is it just a separate circuit doing that, or is it already the first sign of the power being restored? Does this mean the cameras work, too? Can they see him? Performing a sharp turn to the left, he runs down the corridor and comes to a halt in front a still closed cell-door.

"Raven! Wake up!" Hicks bangs his fist against the door, even though he knows them to be sound-proof. All right, same procedure. Scanning the red twilight for the crack, he jumps back when the door suddenly opens all by itself.

"Shit, you were right after all!" The big man's predatory grin is incredulous. "Let's go!"

They make for the elevator shaft. Another door to open. Dammit, this is costing them too much time...! Under his breath, Hicks still finds a moment to utter: "I was afraid you'd be asleep."

"Even if – " The door glides back with a carrying echo, and a draught of metallic-smelling air passes them by as they stick their heads into the blackness of the shaft. "I'm like a cat. I'm always half awake, even when I'm sleeping. Something happens, I know it at once." Raven's hands test the walls, search for the rungs that should be there somewhere. A little nod toward the corridor. "We're getting company."

Hicks hears it, too. They're not the only ones anymore testing the dangerous waters of their unexpected nightly freedom. There are noises behind them, voices. His fingers brush over something, and a moment later they close around a narrow metal rung. The maintenance ladder. He exhales. It's feels very narrow, hardly wide enough to allow more than one foot on it at a time. 

"Got it." He grabs it with both hands and searches for a foothold, finds it and swings his body into the shaft, briefly craning his neck to check where he's going. Nothing but solid blackness. There's not even the red light in here. A quick peek down shows the same. No telling how deep this goes. If he falls, he'll probably be beyond all worries. "It's on the right side. A good arm length in. Watch it, it's narrow!" He pulls himself up. How many minutes have passed since the power failure? Five? Ten? It feels like an eternity to him since he left his cell. Adrenaline roars through his body and pushes him along, gives him an energy he didn't know he possessed.

More shouts behind them in that strange language he can't tell. Something that sounds like a question, directed at them.

"They're coming after us," Raven reports from directly below him. "You want me to do something?"

__

'Like what, step on their fingers?'

"Let them come. We're all in the same boat… and more people could mean more distraction for the guards." Yeah, right. The hope for '_more distraction'_ would be over as soon as the power was restored. Everybody whose implant wasn't deactivated at that time would fall like a pin on a bowling alley. He hurries up the ladder, checking once again for a sign from above, a sign that Keisha is waiting for them up there. She's the pivotal figure here, nothing will work if she fails. Is that the light of a torch cutting through the darkness, a mere pinpoint from his position about 150 meters further down, or just a trick of his eyes, caused by the unusual effort? 'Cause this _is_ getting to him, even if he did his best in the past weeks to build his weak body up again in the gym and during the rehab sessions with his personal caretaker. The strain on his weak leg is enormous, and he can already feel it turning to jelly underneath him, can hear Raven breathing and grunting below him, so close it's obvious he could go much faster if he were first. 

Squeezing every ounce of willpower into his burning muscles while at the same time trying not to misplace his feet or hands and fall down the shaft, he climbs on. Desperately blocking the thought of the laser net activating any second now and transforming them all into even-sized steaks. How much time has passed? Ten minutes? How long do they have left?

"Kee?" His voice sounds raspy, out of breath, but the shaft carries sound well. Carries some unintelligible reply down to him. She's there! God, this is really working! Somewhere below him, a scream cuts through the darkness, bloodcurdling, sending a shiver down his spine when it ends abruptly two or three seconds later with a distant, dull thud. Excited, shocked, overlapping shouts. Someone crying, calling a name. _'Don't think about it…'_ The shaft stretches, seems endless, a tall black tower of death, an accident waiting to happen. How high up are they? _'Enough to leave nothing but a dark_ _smear on the ground if you don't concentrate, idiot!'_ his mental drill-instructor, which he had believed long-gone, kicks in. "We're coming!" Yes, it is a torch. They're getting closer. And his leg is getting more unstable with each rung, even though he's favoring it as much as he can. He can almost feel Raven's impatience, even if the big man's not saying anything yet.

"Hurry up!" Close enough now to understand her. And to pick up the frightened tone of her voice. "Where are you?" The beam finds them. Maybe twenty meters left. And now that he can see the ladder clearly -

"Keep the light like this!" A deep hum sets in, the low, powerful sound of the emergency generators kicking in.

"Move it, man!" Raven growls below him, and he _flies_ up the rungs, towards the anxious young face that's waiting there for them. Feels her hands grasp his arm as he squeezes himself through the opening and helps him to get out of the way to make room for the others. 

"Keisha? Thank you. I didn't think-"

"Stay still." Keisha, trying to sound practical and calm and coming off nothing but terrified beyond belief. "I'm going to deactivate the implant It's gonna hurt."

"Just do it."

"Bite on something." He takes a fistful of his shirt and stuffs it into his mouth, just as Raven climbs into the narrow room. For a moment, he can feel the girl freeze behind him, then there's a sharp pain in his neck and the feeling of liquid warmth running down his back. "I need more light!"

"Gimme the torch." Raven's huge hand shoots out in her direction, just when there's more movement at the opening behind him. Keisha sounds momentarily distracted.

"Who's that? That's not von Sontheim!"

"Nope. He's not coming. They took him last night. Those are the newbies. They saw us leave. Guess they don't wanna get wasted either."

"How many more are there?" Hicks clearly hears the anxiety in her voice, the trembling. There's no time for sabotaging all their implants! Once Raven and he are done, they'll have to leg it – and it's safe to assume that the others won't be thrilled over being left to their destiny…

"Don't know," his companion growls, taking a hasty glance over his shoulders. "We didn't stop to count 'em. Hurry up, dammit!"

"The implant's on his spine! I have to be careful, okay? I can't just rip it out!" Suddenly, the sickening sensation of something scraping over the raw bone. Hicks' jaws clench around the fabric. _'Geez –_ '"Done." How long did it take? How much longer have they got left? 

Taking a step forward, away from the girl, Hicks sees yet another person clamber into their temporary refuge.

"Here, press this on the wound for a moment." She squeezes a patch of gauze into his hand, along with the torch, then turns to Raven. Frightened of actually having to touch him. To be this close to him. "Can you-" She doesn't have to finish. The killer's already bending his knees and lowers himself to her size for her to get to work.

"Move it, girl!"

Hicks exchanges a worried, urgent glance with her over Raven's broad back, then turns his attention back to the new arrivals. There are three of them now, and yet more movement in the shaft. Jesus… this is bound to get ugly… 

The seconds tick away at the speed of light, all the more since he doesn't have a chronometer to check. It's just his feeling, his mind screaming that they're losing too much time!

"Did you bring any weapons?" 

"Not much." She doesn't look at him, is totally absorbed with her task. "Just two scalpels and a few injections. I told you, I don't have access to anything else."

Hell… taking on Weyland Yutani's elite guards with nothing more than a scalpel? Hicks feels his stomach sink.

"What kind of injections?"

"It's a cell poison. It will kill a person within a few seconds."

Okay… they'll need a hostage, then.

"Where's Hikahi?"

"Hicks, I need to concentrate! This is difficult! I've never done this before, okay?" He sighs, but shuts up and taxes the others with another glance. They are staring at Keisha and how she's digging into Raven's bloodied neck with the scalpel, apparently uncertain whether they really want the treatment. Do they know what the thing on their spine is? Did somebody care to instruct them? All they've seen of it's potential so far was the incident of Raven getting punished when he took on their leader.. .but do they know what caused the spasms? Maybe they do, because one of them steps up to her now, just when she's ready and the object of the small operation straightens again. Some unintelligible words, but their meaning is clear as the man points at the back of his neck. She looks at Hicks. "Dwayne-"

"We don't have the time, Kee . You know that."

"But we can't just leave them here!"

"We need to go – now!" He already makes for the door, but not before he sees the dangerous glint in the leader's eyes. An angry outburst from behind. He turns back, sees Raven take a step forward.

"But-"

"We need to get off this station right now! It may already be too late! Not one of us will get off Phooka, if we're too slow! It'll be over for all of us, okay? But if we make it, we come back and shut this place down!"

"Oh God..." She looks apologetically at the men in front of her and shakes her head, her twisted emotions clearly showing on her face. "I can't do it. I'm so sorry..." It's tearing her apart on the inside. Angry hands shoot out towards her, seize her hand with the scalpel. 

"Hey!" Raven intervenes by shoving the man back against the others. There are four of them now, and all are screaming at them, frenzied, angry. "Fuck off! Leave her alone!" He gives Keisha a push towards the door and the anxiously waiting Hicks, while at the same time twisting the scalpel out of her hand. Throws it in front of the others feet. "Here. Help yourself. We're off." A hasty glance over his shoulder. "Let's go!"

They squeeze through the not fully opened door into the red twilight of the corridor. Miraculously, the generator's still out – but the soft, deep humming sound at the edge of their perception is a definite warning sign. They won't go unnoticed for much longer; the power's about to be restored, and with it dozens of surveillance cameras on their way will come to life. If they don't have a hostage by then, all the guards will have to do to catch them is block the doors. They need a hostage, and they need one now! They won't buy that they took Keisha against her will! Nor would they buy their intention to kill her – at least not Hicks'!

"Where's Hikahi, Keisha?"

"At his quarters, probably. Sleeping. Why?" They run down the corridor. Before Hicks can even begin to answer her, she understands. "Oh no! You want to kill him? He saved your life! You -" She stops dead in her tracks, brings them all to a halt. Hicks seizes her shoulders, intensity written all over his face as he attempts to make her aware of the facts.

"I don't wanna kill him, but we won't get far with nothing but a scalpel and a few injections to threaten them."

"Hey!" Raven interrupts him with a brief nod back. "They're following us."

"Yeah, well, let them. Nothing we can do about it. Kee-"

"No! I said I'd help you, and here we are, but you never said anything about taking hostages or even killing people! I don't want to kill anybody – or be responsible for it!"

Hicks exchanges a worried glance with Raven. As if things were not complicated enough... What now? Postpone the issue? Not possible.

"Let's take _her_ then," the huge man suggests in a dry, no-nonsense tone, leaving no doubt he's actually meaning what he says. Keisha's already huge eyes widen even further.

"No. No, you can't-"

Hicks feels anger and frustration over their messed-up situation flare up. 

"Shut up, Raven!" He turns to Keisha. "You know we don't stand a change if they find us defenseless like this. They won't even need the pacifiers to recapture us. Or maybe they won't even take the smallest chance and kill us on the spot. Once they see us-"

"I know a way where they can't!" she offers eagerly. "Or almost can't. It's a sublevel to this, mostly a maintenance way. I checked it, and there are hardly any cameras there. And it's possible to avoid the ones I saw."

"And it leads to the hangar?"

She nods, albeit somewhat reluctantly. "Yes."

"Yes, but?"

"It's a longer way. Quite a bit longer." She sees the negative response in Hicks' eyes and eagerly adds: "But you won't be seen! There aren't many places on Phooka where you can have this advantage!"

"Then it's not an advantage at all. Come on, move!" Further down the corridor. Still no one to be seen. It's kind of surreal, as if they were moving through another dimension where only they existed. "Once the cameras are online again and we don't show up on them, they know where we must be. Let's go straight to the hangar and try our luck. – Which way?" They've reached an intersection. 

"Left. And then-"

The sound of steps! Rustling of clothes and armor! Voices! Someone's coming down the corridor they need to take! 

"Sssshhh!!"

'_Fuck!' _

A hasty step back, the finger in alarm on his lips, eyeing his companions. The other hands digs for the scalpel in his pocket. They understand at once, press their backs against the wall and hold their breath. A questioning glance by Raven. 

__

'What now?' He indicates he wants to go first, but before he can do anything, there's the sound of much closer, lighter steps they didn't hear over the ruckus further back, and a figure rounds the corner – and stops, frozen to the spot. Hicks' reaction is pure reflex – he has seized her in a brutal grip, the scalpel at her throat, before she can even open her mouth for a shout. A thin, red streams starts to trickle into her collar as the blade breaks the skin.

"Don't." His voice is threat enough to shut her up as he pulls her even closer, her blonde braid wrapped around his wrist. She doesn't fight, doesn't move except for the heavy beating of her heart. He can feel it's accelerated speed pulsing against his arm which is wrapped around her neck. She is afraid... very afraid. A breathless moment passes, a moment that has him turning his back to his companions, so he can't see Keisha pale.

"Oh no – that's-"

"Stop it right there!"

"Let her go!"

"Throw it away! _Now!"_

Pandemonium breaks loose, a crescendo of four different voices, all yelling at him at once. Game time. Do or die.

"You shoot, and she dies! Stay right there!" Pure energy surges through his body, a tidal wave of adrenaline. If he even as much as blinks in the wrong moment, they're history! "Put 'em down! Right now! Down!" Without a warning, power is back and the light comes on, blinding him – but the others, too. Somewhere behind him he hears Raven sneer: "Smile, you're on candid camera!" No time to check. So what? This was bound to happen sooner or later. "Put 'em down, I say! I mean it!"

"Do what he says!" the half-choked voice of the woman he's holding. He wanted her to shut up, but now her words are doing the trick as his sight now stumbles back into focus. "Do it!"

"Miss-"

"Put them down, dammit!" They bend down, faces uncertain, and follow her order, much to Hicks' surprise. Could be that luck has finally agreed to play into his hands this time? Did he capture somebody important?

"Now step back! - Raven?"

The killer is already on his way to pick up one of the sleek, deadly-looking rifles, when a voices comes booming in over the station's communication system and the VidCom flickers to life, just as the emergency pressure doors slam shut all around them, effectively locking them into a tiny space together with the four guards. "You three! Give it up! You don't stand a chance! Don't make it worse than it has to be!"

"My words exactly! Leave us alone, and she'll live!" Hicks doesn't look at the monitor, but his tone is leaving no doubt he means every word. "You will prepare a ship for us and hold a pilot ready. You let us leave without any problems, and we'll drop her off someplace, unharmed. If you-"

The reply is icy.

"You got a fucking cheek, soldier, I give you that! I should have known you'd side with this psycho – after all, you're both killers, right? Hell, you've probably even killed more people than Raven himself! You must be crazy if you think we'd let you go!"

"Maybe I _am_ crazy... " A short exchange with Raven to keep an eye on the guards, a curt nod... and finally a short glance over to the monitor, from where an almost bald, middle-aged man glares at him with the eyes of a hawk. "All the more reason to _open these doors and let us pass_!"

"Put down the weapons and surrender!"

"If the doors are still locked in one minute, we'll start shooting your guards." From the corners of his eyes, he sees Keisha flinch. The scene's already ugly - hopefully it won't get even uglier.

"Maybe we should already grease one of 'em to drive that point home," Raven suggests calmly. Of course, this confrontation is what he needs to get off. 

"What chance do you think you got?" The voice quivers with barely suppressed rage. "Do you really think we'll let you leave? There are over one hundred guards on this station, all equipped with the newest technology – tazers, stun guns, gas... end it now, and all we will do is bring you back down. Nothing else. Hurt one of my men, and the others might get angry... I don't know what they'll do with you to get even..."

"That's bullshit." Hicks remains calm, even manages to force a false grin onto his face. "We're '_too important'_. You didn't buy Raven from the death cell, and Carter Burke didn't burn a lot of energy to get me just to simply shoot us now." He pauses, then adds: "The minute's almost over. – Raven?"

"I'm ready. I think I'll take out the one with the pimples first. Someone needs to rid the universe of this ugly face!" The young man he's talking about pales.

"Dwayne, no…" Keisha's voice, desperate. She probably never dreamt how ugly the whole thing would get.

"Any last words, pizza-face?" The rifle aims for the guard's mid-section.

"Kurtz?" _'Do something, dammit!' _Hicks thinks, desperately. He doesn't want to sink to this level, but if the station manager doesn't comply… He can't afford being humane right now.. _'Save_ _your man!'_

"Wait! You cannot-"

"We can and we will!" Thank God his voice doesn't betray his own insecurity. "The guy is history if those doors don't open _right now_!" A deep breath. The man on the monitor opens his mouth for another protest, but Hicks cuts him off. "I'm going to count to ten now – I hit ten, he's dead and we'll continue with the next guard. One..."

"You cannot do this!"

"Dwayne, don't…!"

"Two… three…" The guard stars at him pleadingly, and Hicks recognizes how young he is. Probably just started in the service. Oh man… "Four… five…" He notices how Raven's tightening his grip around the weapon, smiling and stares at Kurtz as if he could telepathically force him to bend to his will. _'DO something!'_ "Six… seven…"

"Wait! Don't!" A deep humming sound rises from all around them, and suddenly, the doors retract into the walls. Hicks feels like a huge burden's been lifted off him, and just barely manages to keep a blank expression. "Okay… this round goes to you." Kurtz virtually spears him with his glare. "But this is only the beginning… you don't stand a chance, remember my words." He only gets a thin, humorless smile as a response.

"Smart man. Now, if you're _really _smart, you will have that ship and pilot ready for us ten minutes from now. And save your tricks. - Which way, Kee?"

"Left…" she whispers faintly, exchanging a half-relieved, yet still worried glance with the deadly-pale guard. Christ, what did she do…! The guy is just barely older than her! If he had died, she would have been responsible! The thought is unbearable! Only dimly does she become aware of Hicks addressing her again.

"Kee?"

"Yes?… Yes?"

"When we proceed , stay close to Raven, okay? We should stay close together from now on."

"Uh-huh…" She's still not fully there, but… Raven? Stay close to this maniac? He can't be serious! The giant winks at her, playfully, making her cringe. She doesn't want to, maybe there's a better way to do this. But Hicks, meanwhile, has other problems that occupy his attention. Like – his hostage.

"I knew you'd do this, Keisha," she manages to utter before he tightens the grip around her neck once again and makes his point by applying more pressure to the scalpel, making the young woman hiss with pain. The trickle of red increases. "I knew you'd betray us one day."

"Thought I'd told you to shut up!" His eyes glued on the opposing guards, he desperately searches for a way out of this mess. What are they supposed to do with the guards now? They can't take them with them!

"What now, shoot 'em?" Raven looks disappointed, but still hopeful.. "Save us further trouble?"

"The only way to save you further trouble will be to give up right now and surrender, you hear me? You can't seriously think you'll get through with this!" Kurtz booms in over the speakers. Hicks nods towards the Vidcom. 

"Kill _him_, first. I'm tired of this shit." 

"Pleasure." Raven fumbles with the rifle, and accidentally let's loose a plasma-burst into the ceiling, frying the lights and sending down shards onto the ducking guards. "Whoops! Whoa – sorry, guys!" The following laugh indicates he's everything but. Another burst, this time controlled. It melts the Vidcom, effectively silencing Kurtzes' enraged tirade. 

Hicks swallows, inwardly taking a deep breath. He'd worry about his companion's show of trigger-happiness if he'd have the time, but right now, there are more pressing things. A brief nod towards the guards.

"You – step back. Slowly." They follow his command after a silent exchange with the woman, accidentally activating the automatic door into the room behind them. "Into the room. Move it! All the way back to the wall." The door slides shut, and for the moment, he's satisfied. A first, however small, victory. More than he would have believed possible, anyway. "Raven? Make sure they'll stay in there. Seal the door. Hurry up."

The killer makes a face.

"Why so complicated? Why don't we just fry 'em?"

"We ain't got time for a discussion now," Hicks growls. Oh yeah, Raven's definitely a handful. Hard to control. "Just do it! – Let's go. Keisha, which way?" He shoves his hostage further down the corridor into the direction the girl's pointing at.

"We shouldn't use the elevators, even if we have to climb all the way up to the top. There's a staircase about 200 meters down this way, let's go there." She steps in front of him, her eyes wide with excitement. "Dwayne, you know who this is?"

"From the way those guards were behaving, I'd say somebody pretty damn important. – Raven?" The sound of the plasma rifles explodes behind them. "What's he doing, Kee? Is he sealing the door?" He doesn't like the thought that it would be the easiest thing in the world for the giant to ignore his order. What if he stepped up far enough for the door to open again? What if he really killed those guards? _'So what?_' a cold voice sneers in the back of his head. _'You ain't gonna win this war by turning into a sissy now! They want you to play hard, so do it!' _

"I can't see it. – Would you have really shot those guards, Dwayne?"

"Not now, Keisha. I promised to take you with us, but until it's over, I can't have you questioning each of my decisions, okay? Save it for later, and I will be happy to answer you. But not now." A deep breath. "So, you know who this is?"

"Yes." She sounds uncertain and excited at the same time. "It's Darwin! She's probably the most important person on Phooka. You really hit the jackpot here." _'But please, don't kill her! Don't kill anybody!'_

'Darwin, huh?_'_

"Why? What does she represent?"

The teenager seems incredulous. He doesn't know?

"She's Phooka's brain! If anything, she's even more important than Kurtz! She's the person this station's been built for! The head scientist! They say she's a genius! They'll never risk her life! We may actually have a chance now!" She feels disgusted by the sudden excitement she's feeling. There's the sound of heavy steps coming up fast behind them. Raven's finished with his business, whatever it was. Better not to think about it.

"Thanks for the introduction, Keisha," his hostage manages to croak against the pressure of Hicks' arm pressing against her windpipe. "Do you know what-"

"Save it!" Hicks turns the scalpel just the tiniest bit, making her groan. A quick glance down the corridor shows they're still alone… but, no doubt, they're already setting up a bitch of a trap someplace else for them this very second Or, more likely, a series of traps. Still, he can't help but feel excited. Phooka's brain, huh? The biggest joker in the entire game? He's got Kurtz by the balls then, doesn't he? And…'head scientist'? He can't help it, he's got to know. "Darwin, huh? So you are the one they're kidnapping us all for? What are you using us for? Medical experiments? Or are you testing a new nerve gas or some other shit on us? What? And what did you do to Axel?"

"Axel?" Her question makes him furious_. Oh yeah, they're just guinea pigs to you, right? You don't even know their names!'_

"Axel von Sontheim. He disappeared last night. What did you put him through?"

"Oh... " She seems to ponder her reply, having picked up his anger and knowing she's walking the tightrope here. "You wouldn't begin to understand." Her tone is, quite bizarre given the situation, still calm. "And I think you should really worry more about what Kurtz will be throwing at you, once we've made it to the flight deck."

"Why would you care?!" he fumes, awfully close to snapping her neck for putting on this stuck-up attitude, but realizing at the same time that he'd seal their destiny if he did. 

"I want to live. And I can't trust neither Kurtz nor his men to do the right thing once the situation escalates… and most certainly, I can't trust you!"

"Oh, I guarantee you can trust me to-"

"Don't listen to her!" comes Keisha's advice from the right, cutting him off. "She'll only mess with your head. She'll try to make you do something stupid!"

"He's _already_ doing something stupid, girl," Darwin states, while Hicks shoves her over to the staircase his guide is pointing out. "I just want to diminish the damage as far as possible."

"You do, huh?" A brief nod towards the twilight of the stairs. "Raven? Check out the stairs." The killer passes him, rifle ready, probably even hoping to find someone he can grease. Long seconds pass, where they hear nothing but his cautious footsteps climbing up to the next level. "So, _Darwin_, since you're so considerate regarding our well-being, why don't you enlighten me: What do you think Kurtz will do now? Set up a trap on the flight deck for us?"

"Of course." 

"Stairs are clear."

Raven's raspy voice, calling for them in a low tone. Hicks motions for Keisha to go first, before he follows after one last glance down the corridor. They're still alone down here.

"What kind of trap?"

"I don't know for sure…" She steps up the first stair, the scalpel still at her throat. "But if I were you, I'd count on a massive ambush – it's likely he'll send all the guards he can summon to the hangar. That's over one hundred heavily armed, trigger-happy, stupid men. If you mess up, all that will be left of us will be vapor being sucked into the air conditioning system."

"Very… imaginative." He's glad he doesn't have to look into Keisha's eyes right now. Did she know what she was signing up for when she agreed to help them? No. Obviously not. Obviously, it's already more than she was bargaining for. "And just how important, do you think, are you to Kurtz? Are you sure he won't risk your death?"

"If I die through his fault, his career will be over. I'm sure he knows that." She falls silent, as if she were pondering her own answer. Hicks grants her the time, trying to sort out which of the million questions that pop up in his head are the most urgent ones.

"Okay… tell me about the flight-deck. What does it look like? How many ways in and out? How many ships are there usually? Tell me whatever you know."

"I will tell you what I know, if you ease up with that scalpel. If you cut off my head or gag me, you won't get anything." Another long moment of tension. Hicks considers his options. They're alone right now. Out of Kurtzes' reach… Really? He could be just waiting for him to let down his guard. There are cameras in here, too. He sees them. He comes to a conclusion and eases the pressure on his hostages neck just the slightest bit.

"You know I can't do that. The moment I take it down, your boss will pull some stunt we all would probably end up regretting very much. You most of all."

Strangely enough, she almost sounds as if she were smiling.

"You don't want to kill me, I can feel it. You don't want to kill anyone. But you might have to to get your way. You know this, don't you?"

For a moment, Hicks is too surprised to answer. God beware – can she read minds? At this place, it would hardly be a wonder if they developed some drug or some way to boost people's potential PSI-powers. Or is his reluctance this obvious? He swallows and feels Keisha's glance on himself as she climbs up the steps in front of them. Yeah, of course she's also very much interested in his answer.

"We'll see."

"Yeah, you don't want anyone to look at your cards, but Kurtz is just as shrewd as me when it comes to reading people. He'll call your bluff. You either go all the way or you lose. You can't threaten him endlessly and expect to get off this station this way. There's no way of coming out of this with your halo intact."

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"I told you – I want to live. I don't want to die up there because neither you nor the guards were ready for what's to come. Since I can't do anything about the guards… I'll have to take my chances with you."

"Hm..." Can he trust her? Her explanation sounds reasonable enough. But then, Keisha said something about her being the local genius, right? If she were really that smart, it would certainly be a piece of cake for her to tell him some crap and lure him into a trap of her own. Decisions... His head feels like it's about to implode with all the contradicting considerations running through it. But – he already has a more trustworthy source of information, doesn't he? "Kee? How far up is the fight deck? How many levels?"

"Nine. It's the station's top."

"And what's on those levels? I assume they all have access to the stairs, right? Can they come for us from there?"

"Of course." Now that he's giving her something to do, the teenager seems to calm down at least a little. "They're mostly storage, though. You know, since they're under the flight deck... it means short transportation ways."

"Right. What about the guards? Where will they come from? Do you think they're ready to intercept us yet?"

"Count on it," Darwin answers before Keisha can. "There may not be many emergencies on this station where we need them, but they're well-trained and fast. They're not going to sit on their asses and wait until it's too late."

"Okay. – Raven?" 

"Yup?" By the sound of it, his accomplice is already one level ahead of them. 

"Fry the opening mechanisms of all doors you're passing. It might grant us a little more time."

"But then we won't be able to leave the stairs if they set up a trap on the flight deck," Keisha throws in, worried.

"There is no other way for us to go, Kee. We either make it, or we don't. The longer we stay on the station, the less likely we're going to come out of this." Silence, only broken by their hollow-sounding footsteps and the low whine of a surveillance camera greeting them on the next part of the stairs, moving with them. An atmosphere of gloom hangs over their heads, realization hitting them. Until now, Hicks had simply been too busy keeping everything and everyone in check to ponder the further meaning of his doings, but now, in that short break destiny's granting them, the implications of his doings become clearer with each step that he takes... towards the flight deck. Which is where this game will be decided... one way or the other... "Kee?"

"Yes?" 

She sounds even younger than she is all of a sudden. Like a child. _'She is still a child,'_ he reminds himself, feeling guilty. 'What are you putting her through?' "

"I don't know if this is the right time, but I don't know if I'll ever get another chance to thank you. Your help is more than I could ever have hoped to find. I cannot begin to tell you how grateful I am."

"Yeah?" She smiles unhappily. "I don't know if I would do it again. I'm so scared."

"I know, Kee. I know. Me too. But we'll find a way out. I can't guarantee it, but I'll do whatever I can to get us through this. That's a promise." Another promise to another girl. _'You remember what you promised Newt, soldier? You know how that ended?'_ He can't make the ugly thought disappear, even when he sees her brave, thankful nod. She knows the odds too well to count on him to keep it.

The rest of the way, they move in silence, the tension rising to an almost unbearable level. What will await them up there? Will it all end in blood and tears? Will they succeed? What? They are about to find out.

Stepping up another level, Hicks sees Raven standing in front of a slowly opening door. So this is where the stairs end. What will be waiting for them on the other side? An army to overcome? A smooth, deadly trap he couldn't even have begun to anticipate? Taking a deep breath, he steps out.

***

It is as he feared. As Darwin predicted. His opponent is anything but stupid and is doing everything in his power to confuse him. To his right; he hears Raven's disbelieving voice.

"Fuck me – what is this shit?"

"Oh no - " Keisha. Less graphic, but equally shocked. 

His first, insane and – even to himself – totally unexpected reaction to the image in front of his eyes is laughter. A brief, cynical burst that stands in sharp contrast to the seriousness of their situation. Man, whoever thought up this saying about someone not being able to see the forest for the trees, he's been here! For what his eyes show him – a vast hall, stretching for at least half a mile under a daring construction of mainly glass with a light metal skeleton for stability in between, featuring a lush scenery with a flowing river, a roaring waterfall, hedges and trees for as far as the eye can see – it can't be here! His mind stubbornly refuses to take anything his eye nerves send back at face value. This all – it's nothing but camouflage, but with the most sophisticated illuso-technology his experienced gamer's eyes have ever seen. There is no difference to reality – everything looks real, _there_, and only common sense dismisses it as false. Well... the moment of surprise passes, and Hicks feels his lucid self come back online... along with an even stronger feeling of determination. If Kurtz thinks he can take advantage of him by playing hide and seek, ducking behind false trees and rocks, he's mistaken.

"Kurtz!" As much as he's trying to see through things, to detect the hiding men, he can't. "I don't know what you think you can win by pulling this shit! You will deactivate the illuso _right now_! How stupid do you think I am?"

"He doesn't deem you as stupid," a voice he's already heard somewhere, but can't place, answers. "And neither is he. He is not here, of course. He won't let you take him for a hostage, too." A figure steps out from behind one of the nearest trees. A dark-haired man, probably in his 30's, looking calm and content in spite of the situation. He's tall, but not overly muscular. Neither is he armed. He doesn't appear to be part of the troops, but before Hicks can place him or open his mouth to ask, he's interrupted by Raven's voice.

"Sheeit, Alex, what are _you _doing here?"

"You know him?" Hicks asks without letting the enemy out of his sight, while at the same time keeping an ear open for what's going on behind them, even though he told Keisha to watch out. The big man snorts with disgust.

"Hell yeah! He's a shrink! He'll probably try and screw our heads on backwards with his psycho-babble. Make us all confused and feel guilty, right, Alex? You feel so smart! You think you know so much. But you know one thing? There's no energy shield protecting you this time!"

"You think I'm afraid, Raven? You think I came here alone? You think you're the only one with a rifle here?" The man takes a step forward.

"That's close enough!" Hicks intervenes, trying to have his eyes everywhere at once. "Stay there! And shut down the fuckin' movie _now_! We won't move before that." His opponent lifts his hands, palms turned upwards in a gesture of pretended innocence. 

"I'm afraid that's not up to me."

"Okay..." _'Trying to gain some time, huh?'_ "Kurtz?" So far, he hasn't seen any cameras or monitors, but they're there. He knows. "I know you're there! You're going to regret your plump tricks, if you don't shut this shit down right now! I mean it!" A very brief nod over to Raven, but the order he intends to utter is made redundant by the discovery that the killer's rifle is already pointing towards their opponent.

"Someone's coming up the stairs!" Keisha, from somewhere behind him, sounding terrified. 

"You think I'm joking?" A quick cut makes his hostage cry out, and still he's keeping the scalpel at her throat. More blood runs down her delicate neck. The collar of her shirt is already soaked. 

"Kurtz, you fuckin' idiot!" she yells, and although she had appeared so calm and controlled on the stairs, she's sounding truly frightened now. Frightened and hurting. "Do what he says, or do you want him to kill me? _They _will not be happy with you!"

"Kee? Come closer."

"But then the door will close and I won't be able to-"

"I know, I know. - Raven?"

"What?" The killer sounds impatient, and there's a dangerous glint in his eyes Hicks doesn't like at all. He wants to shoot the one target they have right now. He wants to finally spill some blood. But it's not how he intends to play the game. "Fry the mechanism. Can't have 'em coming up behind us." No reaction. "_Move it_!" An angry glare grazes him. Raven doesn't like taking orders. And he's getting more difficult to handle by the minute, endangering their escape. He can't let that happen. They've come so far, now all that's left to do is taking a walk down that hall and into the ship! They _have_ to succeed now!

Finally, the big man steps over and does as he was told, granting them at least a little more security. Now, as for what's in front of them... 

"I don't believe your boss understands, yet," Hicks whispers into Darwin's ear, his tone calm but an unmistakable threat. The scalpel sinks deeper into the skin under her chin, making her whimper.

"Kurtz! Help me! Please!" It is a cry of despair that sends a chill down Hicks' back. He's never slit anybody's throat. And he doesn't want to! What did she say back on the stairs? There's no way for him to come out of this with his halo intact? She was right. She knew this would happen. This – all of a sudden, the landscape's gone. The rocks, the waterfall, the trees... It's deadly calm now. No artificial breeze, no roaring water, no non-existent birds chirping. All that's left of the magical show is a huge, empty hall – and more soldiers in front of them than Hicks can count in a rush, every single rifle pointing towards them. Towards him. Covering him with small red spots of light where the shot would hit. Waiting for one tiny screw-up to take him out. Two rows forming a corridor. He can't have his eyes everywhere once he moves, right? There's bound to be chance for them. His stomach turns to ice.

"Oh God..." Keisha, terrified.

So, this is it, finally. Game time. 

"Fine." It's Kurtz's voice booming in over the communication system, god-like. "Have it your way. Are you happy now? Do you still think you can pass all these men without making a single mistake?" A heavy silence hangs over their heads before he continues. The silence before the storm? Hicks feels frozen. "You're making one big mistake here, Corporal – you're overestimating your importance. You are so sure we won't fire. But you know what? There will be others like you. And there are others like Raven, too. We may not have them here, yet, but we can get them. We don't need to keep you alive at all costs. The moment one of my men has a clear shot, he'll take it. Be assured he will."

It takes a long second for Hicks to find his voice, but when he finally answers, it is still sounding firm and determined.

"All right... let them shoot, then. But I might twitch..." He takes a step forward, pushing Darwin deeper into the room. The rifles follow his movement. "You could kill me - but you would kill her, too. With all the medical achievements you've made here, I still doubt you'd be fast enough to save her if I severed her jugular... it won't even take half a minute for her to bleed out." 

Silence. 

"So go, if you are so sure." 

"Where is the ship?" There is none visible behind the vast panoramic window with a view of the docks on the left side. Several doors lead to the gangways into the dock area, but the signs above them say it clearly: No entry. This is for arrivals, only. Behind them, there will be the DeCon-Units everybody has to pass when he leaves the ship. Where is the terminal for the departures?

"All the way down the hall, the last corridor on the right," Kurtz answers him. Of course, he's taking full advantage of the location. The longer the way, the likelier the mistake. Predictable, but it doesn't help them. "It's a small executive's shuttle. The only ship that's available right now, in fact. You are lucky."

"Yeah, right..." A few more deep breaths. Hicks swallows. Then makes an effort to refocus. 

"Kee, come on, stay close. Raven? Cover our backs, okay? We need to stay close together, people. " He exhales, feels the presence of the others around him. "Ready?"

"Can I shoot if I don't like how somebody's looking at us?"

"You only shoot if you have too. Every single shot could trigger a chain-reaction. They made a tactical mistake lining up like this – they can't shoot without having to worry they'll hit one of their own. It could be our advantage... but we have to stay cool, okay? Can you do this?"

"Hey, I was born cool," Raven sneers. "Don't worry about me."

"Good..." Another deep breath. "Let's go then." He pushes his hostage forward, sees the red dots on his body follow him. If they'd choose to take him out now, there wouldn't be much left of him to fall to the ground. He'd take at least eight shots. _'But they don't. They're afraid!'_

They reach the first men in the rows. Step into the cordon. The silence is thick and oppressive. All that can be heard are their slow, cautious footsteps as they advance, and the rustling of clothes and eventual creaking of armor when the guards follow their movement. And, of course, his own thunderous heartbeat, so loud in his ears, he hardly notices anything else. But he senses. Senses the additional red spotlights on his back, where the men behind them are aiming at as long as Raven's not obstructing their view. He's sure the back of his head is but a single red blur. If they wanted to, they could spill his brains all over his hostage right now. _'But they don't! They're afraid!'_

"Raven?"

"I got us covered, man. Don't worry."

"Keisha?" It's that shrink again, still in front of them, in the middle of the cordon, stepping backwards as slowly as they proceed. "You like what you've done here? I don't think so."

Hicks glares at him.

"Just save it, man! She ain't listening!" 

"Oh yes, you are, Keisha. I know you are. You are scared, right? You know you made a mistake, and you don't know how to get out of this. You freed two murderers, and only now do you see how ugly it is what they do. I can see it in your face."

"You ain't tricking her! She knows very well what's going on!" But he hears the girl's crying by his side. She's coming apart. There must be some truth to what that silver-tongued devil's saying.

"They're only using you, Keisha. You see that now, right? They-"

"Don't listen to him, Kee!" One third of the way lies behind them.

"- they just needed you to shut down the generator for them. They're not interested in you. You see what your Marine friend's doing to Darwin? He's about to slit her throat! He already cut her up very badly! He was also ready to shoot those guards down on level 10, do you remember? One of them was barely older than you are! You really want to free him?"

"Stop it!" Her voice is breaking. But Saitchev has found her vulnerable spot and only pries his fingers into the cracks even more, doubling his efforts.

"And what about Raven, Keisha? I don't have to tell you about _him_. You know what he did... how many people he killed. And once you follow them into the ship, and you're alone with them... can't you guess what is going to happen? Are you really so naive? Is this really the company you choose?"

"They're better than you are!" she cries, stubbornly, but not convinced. "You kidnap innocent people and do horrible things to them! They won't hurt me! You're lying!"

Saitchev looks surprised, then wrinkles his brow as if he never heard of a more absurd thing in his life. 

"So that's what they told you to make you help them, huh? I wish I'd known. I could have helped to clear up things for you. Kee –"

"Don't call me that!"

50% of the way behind them. Almost there...

"Kee, you are one very confused, young girl. You made a mistake, but we know how it happened. Don't think we can't understand you. You were lonely and miserable, and – I have to admit – we all somewhat neglected you. Nobody cared for your concerns. We made that mistake. But we'll make up for it. You probably think there's no way back for you, but there is!"

"Leave her alone, dammit!" Hicks yells at him in anger, but the man doesn't even look at him.

"Just help us here, Keisha. Help us, and everything will be forgiven. – Take away his scalpel!"

Hicks' heart misses a beat.

"Keisha, no! He's lying!" 

From behind comes Raven's voice: "You want me to grease him?" 

"Dwayne?" She coming to a halt, tears streaming down here face. Forcing them to stop, too. "I don't know what to do anymore!"

The commotion outside would be unintelligible for a human, but I understand every word of it. Alexander's good. He's really good. He completely unarmed, and yet – from the sound of it – he has created the first real big problem for the escapees. The high art of psychology – he is definitely a master of it. In his place, I wouldn't even have known how to begin. I stare at Samuel and Lance, my two artificial brothers, on the other side of the ship's entrance. I hope Kurtz is right about the illuso shielding us from their view when they come in. To the eye of an unsuspecting human being, we are just a part of the wall. We're not there. And I agree that this can probably fool Raven, who comes from a world that's still in the stone ages technology-wise, compared to others. He won't know about the achievements of technology, especially on the illuso-sector. The marine, on the other hand, has already displayed his abilities as a serious gamer. He has an eye for artificial things. The entertainment center in his cell is proof of that. In the weeks he's been here, his reaction time and skill in virtual reality-scenarios has improved to a point that demands respect even from me. He knows a holographic scene from a real one when he sees it. Will he see us in here? What will he do then? Kill Darwin? And if I succeed – how am I supposed to ever be able to get on his good side? Kurtz said Darwin's little manipulation plan wouldn't count anymore in this situation, and I agree. The project's not important right now. She is. We have to make sure she gets out of this alive. All other concerns are minor. _'Damn, Darwin'_, I curse silently. '_Why did you have to rush over to the west wing as soon as I was gone? Against Kurtz' order? What were you looking for?'_ The voices from outside draw closer, and even though I'm camouflaged, I step back. Only a few minutes left now, if Alexander doesn't succeed. As brilliant as he is, I don't think so. It'll be up to us synthetics to save the day... as always.


	2. Chapter 2

The commotion outside would be unintelligible for a human, but I understand every word of it. Alexander's good. He's really good. He completely unarmed, and yet – from the sound of it – he has created the first real big problem for the escapees. The high art of psychology – he is definitely a master of it. In his place, I wouldn't even have known how to begin. I stare at Samuel and Lance, my two artificial brothers, on the other side of the ship's entrance. I hope Kurtz is right about the illuso shielding us from their view when they come in. To the eye of an unsuspecting human being, we are just a part of the wall. We're not there. And I agree that this can probably fool Raven, who comes from a world that's still in the stone ages technology-wise, compared to others. He won't know about the achievements of technology, especially on the illuso-sector. The marine, on the other hand, has already displayed his abilities as a serious gamer. He has an eye for artificial things. The entertainment center in his cell is proof of that. In the weeks he's been here, his reaction time and skill in virtual reality-scenarios has improved to a point that demands respect even from me. He knows a holographic scene from a real one when he sees it. Will he see us in here?  What will he do then? Kill Darwin? And if I succeed – how am I supposed to ever be able to get on his good side? Kurtz said Darwin's little manipulation plan wouldn't count anymore in this situation, and I agree. The project's not important right now. She is. We have to make sure she gets out of this alive. All other concerns are minor. _'Damn, Darwin', I curse silently. '__Why did you have to rush over to the west wing as soon as I was gone? Against Kurtz' order? What were you looking for?' The voices from outside draw closer, and even though I'm camouflaged, I step back. Only a few minutes left now, if Alexander doesn't succeed. As brilliant as he is, I don't think so. It'll be up to us synthetics to save the day... as always._

***

"He's messing with your head, Kee! You know he's just trying to manipulate you! You're doing the right thing, Keisha! Deep down, you know I'm not what he says! He's lying, and he is desperate! You're his only chance! He's trying to make us turn against each other! Don't listen to him! We're almost there!" Hicks can, in fact, already see the ship's silhouette in the adjourning hangar. So close...! They've already passed almost the entire line of guards without incident, and once they're inside the ship – that'll be it! With Phooka being a scientific outpost, Hicks doesn't think they've got the weapons to shot them down once they're space-borne. Of course he could be wrong, but... they'd still have Darwin. They wouldn't dare to shoot, would they? 

"Who do you believe, Keisha?" Alexander Saitchev is still standing between them and the ship, his blue eyes focussing on the silently crying girl. "A murderer... or me?"

"He's just telling you first-class bullshit, girl," Raven can be heard now for the first time. "I'm only interested in killing guys who can defend themselves. It's more of a sport, really. I'm not interested in duking it out with kids – I'm a hunter, not a perv."

"I didn't say he'd kill you...," Saitchev adds suggestively, making her even more afraid. 

"Hey!" The big man turns, and for the first time ever, he seems to be in danger of losing his cool, threatening to leave his place behind Hicks and go for his adversary. "I'm no kiddie-raper, asshole! I'd kill _you_ in an instant, and with pleasure, but I don't get off doing babies! Now shut the fuck up, or I'll make you!"

"Raven!" Hicks sends him a warning glance. "Don't! He's just trying to separate us, one way or the other. Get back behind me. We're almost there. Don't throw it all away just because he's insulting you. He's desperate. If this doesn't work, they'll lose. Don't let them win at the last second!"

Grumbling and still obviously reluctant, the killer falls back into place, sending Saitchev a glare that's more than a promise. _'I'll get you... count on it!'_

The entrance to the hangar. And in the middle the waiting ship, a sleek, middle-ranged executive's model. Finally! A huge surge of energy races through Hicks' body. The impulse of turning around and run the last 50 meters to the open ramp is hard to ignore. There are no further guards in here, at least none that he can see. They're all behind them, as he turns around now to face them after clearing the entrance, still aiming for him. Almost there! Now, what would he have done in Kurtz's place? Set up not one, but at least two traps, right? And what better trap would there be than the ship itself? Easiest thing in the world to place a few men inside the shuttle and wait for them where he can't see them!

"Raven? Go and take a look inside." He hears the big man step up behind him and casts a grim smile over to the waiting Saitchev. "Let's hope your boss is playing by the rules. Right, _Darwin?"_

He's coming. Even though I'm protected by the illuso, I press my back against the wall. I know I am strong and fast enough to even keep the upper hand in a battle with Raven... but he is armed. I know, they could probably 'repair' me, but – I don't want to be shot. I don't want to know what it feels like. Would I feel something equivalent to pain? And if there'd be a battle, my human sister would probably die. She's been treating me strangely these past weeks, but – I also don't want her to die. She is the only one I'm able to talk to on the same level of intelligence – sorry, Alex. 

I see a pair of boots below me at the end of the ramp. Shins... massive thighs... Raven's careful. Even if he can't see me, he's got those animal instincts. I freeze, even stop breathing. Can he sense me nevertheless? Smell me, maybe? He's coming closer. Middle of the ramp, rifle pointing my way. His eyes move like a security-camera, unblinking. Two more steps. Only three meters separate us now. He listens. If I jumped at him now, I could disarm him in a tenth of a second. I don't.

He passes me, and my head moves with him just the slightest bit – when, suddenly, he turns around, and his colorless eyes stare right at me! Did he hear me? Did he – he stretches out his arm and – touches the wall about 50 cm to my left – where it's still real! I don't even dare to blink, while his fingers glide over the metal, testing, probing… over to the wrong side. Over the real wall. Pauses. Lines appear on his forehead. I can tell he's smelling something and prepare to defend myself, when he abruptly turns again and continues on his way, sizing up the ship's interior and looking straight at my synthetic brothers without seeing them. 

"Raven?" The Corporal sounds impatient. Calmly, the killer turns around, his eyes once again surveying the _Stardust's_ cockpit and cryo-capsules – and us – before he takes a deep breath and retraces his steps down the ramp. 

"Looks good." 

I wait for a few moments longer before I dare to breath again, feeling my flesh burn from lack of oxygen. A short glance over to Samuel and Lance shows they're feeling the same. This was close!

"So, how do we do it?" Raven mumbles under his breath. The crucial part. Provided the guards still have something up their sleeves, they're bound to act now – or they will be gone. Hicks doesn't look at his partner, his eyes sizing up the small army at the hangar's entry. Alexander Saitchev has already cleared the path for them to shoot by taking cover behind a container to his right. When he finally answers, he's keeping his voice down. Tension flows through his body like electricity.

"Kee, you first." Hearing her footsteps behind his back, he pulls his hostage towards the ship, reaching the end of the ramp. "Raven? You go last. Cover us. If they try something, shoot."

"Pleasure." He grins in Saitchev's direction, who takes on the challenge.

"You know they won't let you leave, Corporal. They _can't_ let you leave. They'll rather kill all of you than letting you escape. This is your last chance to-"

"Why don't you save it for someone who cares?" Hicks suggests. "For Kurtz, maybe? You've lost, and you know it." Halfway up the ramp now. Keisha's already inside. Exhilaration. They've made it! They- a rush of air behind him, and then it all goes to hell!

The girl passes us without even taking up the notion that she isn't alone. She believes it for a full five seconds, until I blink once into Lance's direction, and he snatches her, fast, silently, his hand over her mouth and lifting her off the floor before she can even begin to fight. Not one sound escapes her, and another step back brings the Corporal into my range.

I lunge and seize his hand with the scalpel, pull it from Darwin's throat in the wink of an eye. Expecting him to let go of it, but impossibly he holds on and whirls around to fight me while his hostage dives down the ramp.

"Clear! Shoot!"

The sound of the tazers explodes outside the ship, and I hear Raven scream, followed by a low thud, but can't see what happened. A fist shoots toward my face, and I seize it, too, forcing Hicks's hands down with a grip of steel, twisting his arms until they almost snap. He is no match for me, but even though he realizes it, he continues to struggle, face twisted with fierce effort. Sorry, Corporal – can't let you go! Another fast move and I got him in a deadlock, forcing him down to his knees right behind the cockpit door.

"Got-" I start, but a piercing cry of agony cuts me off  and ends with a moist gargle. What the-

"Shoot! Shoot the bastard!" one of the guards is shouting, but I don't hear him, I don't care as I shove my opponent into Samuel's arms and run down the ramp to Alexander's aid. Even in mid-jump, with only a fraction of a second to determine what happened, I know I'm too late: Raven's limp body hangs from my lover's neck like an oversized bulldog, his face not visible under all the blood showering down on him. Alex is on his knees, eyes glazed with shock, his mouth opened wide in a silent scream while he uselessly pummels the fallen giant with his fists. Again the tazers explode all around me, their flashes creating a fierce thunderstorm of electricity when I hit the floor – and crash to the ground, my flesh first burning, then turning numb.

"Don't kill him! Don't-"

"No! No! Alex!" I try to stand up, but my body disobeys. My joints move, but the real muscles and sinew refuse to work, can't stabilize the limbs enough for me to move. I can't reach him, can't help him! I'm forced to see Raven's strong jaws clench one final time, and then the bald head hits the floor with a thud as he comes loose, his teeth still closed around... no. _No_! I don't want to believe my eyes as I see Alexander collapse on top of the killer, stunned by the tazer shots that hit him, too, a gaping hole in his neck where the blood's spurting out. "Help him!" I yell on top of my voice, meaning everybody – but most of all Darwin. She's the smartest being in the universe, she must be able to do something! She owes me! "Alex!"

Hicks' weak leg gives in and he almost falls, feels strong arms seizing him again from behind and rams back his elbow – into a wall so hard it almost shatters the bone, sending a silver bolt through his arm, and rendering it useless. A surprised grunt, and then the cursed noise of plastic cuffs locking on his wrist – and, with another 'click', on a bar. A low, barely audible noise, but as finite as the crunching sound of a heavy lid being put on top of a coffin. He stops struggling, lets his hands sink, a bitter taste in his mouth. Against all hope, they made it into the ship – and still, they didn't succeed. How could it go so wrong all of a sudden? Their escape was so close... but now, everything has turned into its opposite. Bitterness replaces optimism, despair replaces hope. This was the one change he had, and he blew it. But why here? Why not when they left the elevator shaft, or on the stairs? What kind of a cruel god let them succeed far enough to sniff at freedom, only to yank it away at the last possible moment? 

His eyes wander down his arm to the plastic shackle that holds him, and from there to the man opposite him... and Keisha. She has also given up the struggle and just stands there, looking at him. She doesn't cry anymore. Her eyes are calm and dark. She knows what awaits her. She can't hope for mercy. Neither can he.

There's commotion outside the ship now, different voices yelling orders, and one very desperate sounding one he recognizes as the one of the female android. Their two capturers look at each other, and, apparently having decided that their presence is no longer essential here, make for the exit to see whether they can be of help in the hangar. A hollow silence follows their departure. Hicks stares at his young co-conspirator for a moment longer, before determination makes a last reappearance. He yanks back his shackled arm, squeezes his thumb as much towards the middle of his hand as possible and pulls fiercely. It's only plastic, there's got to be a way!

"Save it," Keisha's tonelessly says, sitting down on the floor. Her legs won't carry her any more, and as the initial shock diminishes, the reactions of her body catch up with her and she starts shaking violently. "You can't break them."

He doesn't listen. There has to be a way to free himself yet, to close the ramp and shut them all out and somehow – somehow leave the station behind and… and he's got no pilot. No hostage, either. No way he can force them to give him a pilot. No way to get off. His arms slump at his side. _'Time to face it, soldier: You lost."_ The bitter voice of reason, finally loud enough make itself heard. _'You played with maximum risk, and it was a nice try – but you lost. Now take it like a man."_

The taste in his mouth is bitter as he turns around to meet Keisha's eyes. Another promise he broke. Another one which really counted. 

"I'm sorry, Kee…" He's at a loss for words, feeling numb as if somebody hit him over the head. The noise from outside slowly subsides, but he doesn't even hear it. It's not important anymore. Nothing is. He shakes his head and sees an unhappy smile form on the teenager's lips.

"It's okay, Dwayne. I don't blame you. It was my own decision." 

There's nothing left to say, nothing left to do. They wait in silence until they finally hear the sounds of footsteps coming their way. The two man – probably synthetics – who set them captive, and a group of guards. No Isis, no Darwin, no Kurtz, no Alexander. They're coming to bring them back to the dungeon. For a brief moment, Hicks actually considers trying to get a hold of one of the rifles to shoot himself, but they're too careful now. 

"Samuel will release you now," the guard in the front – his name tag says "Salinas" – barks at him. "Try something, and you'll find we can make things a lot more painful for you."

He doesn't move as the man steps up to him and opens the cuff around the bar to close it around Hicks' other wrist behind his back, his eyes staring unfocussed through the men in front of him at something only he can see. A hand pushes him forward and down the ramp. Trance-like, he steps down, his distant gaze gliding over the hangar, the troops, the ring of humans gathered around someone lying on the floor next to the ramp. Another body's lying right beside it. Raven. Motionless, his face a mask of dried blood. Dead? He must be, or they would have tied him up already – or at least watch him. But nobody is. They're all kneeling around the second man, and from the blue pants he sees sticking out of the tight circle, he knows it's the psychiatrist. A very cynic thought pulses through his mind – _"At least one of us kept his promise!" – and vaporizes when he meets the eyes of his android caretaker, who is sitting in a strange, awkward position at the foot of the ramp. A hateful, bitter stare so full of human emotion, it can't possibly belong to a synthetic. It cuts through his trance like a knife, making him wonder in spite of the situation. __'What are you, Isis?' Crouching next to her, holding her bloodied neck is his hostage, likewise looking at him, her face a non-telling, bland mask. Where he expected to see relief or even triumph, there is nothing but iron self-control. What is she thinking? She must have been scared to death, right? Just a few minutes ago, he was about to slash her throat – and yet, with her kidnapper captured and about to be thrown into a cell again, there is not the slightest trace of emotion visible on her face? Who is the synthetic here? Isis – or 'Phooka's brain'? The moment stretches, with neither of them being able to break eye-contact, until the tip of a rifle is jammed against his shoulder blade and breaks the spell._

"Move it, asshole!"

One last, regretful look back. Towards the ship, the sky with all its twinkling stars, towards Keisha, who is slowly being led down the ramp behind him. Upsorbing the images, storing them away in his memories. A short, final nod. Bidding each other farewell. They will never meet again. Not in this life.

***

            "I don't care whether you're hurting or not, Darwin! I wouldn't care if your head fell off, if it weren't for the fact that they would somehow put the blame on me. But you can claim this mess entirely for yourself! This time you're going to get the flak you've been deserving for a long time, girl! Just what the hell where you thinking? I explicitly ordered you to stay in Lab 1 until the situation was under control, and what do you do? Run straight over to the west wing and let yourself be captured? If I didn't know better, I'd say you were deliberately trying to help them!"

            "Right. _I_ sabotaged the generator! _I_ told Hikahi's little brat to deactivate their PDTs! All because I _wanted that freak to cut off my head."_

            "Your snotty replies are completely uncalled for, Superbrain! Someone died because of your stupidity! Five people, to be exact!"

            "Five?"

            "Yes, five! The guards on level 10 and Alexander Saitchev. Thanks to you, we lost one of our best men – and someone crucial to the project, as well. As far as screw-ups go, you definitely hit the jackpot with this one. They would have gone nowhere if _you hadn't walked right into their waiting arms! I can't wait until Rosselli gets you into his fingers."_

            "Who told Alexander Saitchev to check on that psycho before he was secured? Why did he have to kneel right beside him? Nobody! It was completely his own fault! He must have known Raven was faking it."

            "You know damn well that usually one tazer shot is enough to stun anybody. And Raven caught at least three. That's enough to stop someone's heart. He was being concerned. But of course that's an alien idea to you. And I'm going to ask you this once again, and this time I want an answer: Why did you go to the west wing disobeying my direct order? Just to annoy me? I wouldn't deem it completely beneath you, but there's got to be something more important, or you wouldn't have risked losing your head. What was it?"

            Darwin's tone is as condescending as ever, pure arrogance, even though she doesn't have a reason to feel superior. Not in this case. In this case, it's probably the first time I have to agree with Kurtz. 

            "Believe it or not, I thought I could be of help. I thought you could use someone with more than two brain cells over there."

            I can tell this is _just_ the thing to say to Kurtz right now! He's having a field day taking her apart! It's the one occasion he has been waiting for all this time.

            "Right! You are perfectly right, Darwin! This was a situation where intelligence was definitely needed. And you were not the one to supply it! You just made an unusual, but potentially serious, situation go critical! Don't you have any idea what you've done? You killed _five people!"_

            No further reply from Darwin. Kurtz goes on, a little lower now, and I sort of listen in on their discussions behind the curtain, but my mind is somewhere else, moving in a loop it can't break: Alexander, eyes glazed with shock, gurgling. The ever-widening red pool around his head and shoulders when they pull him away from Raven and lay him on the floor to stop the bleeding. Noises, frantic yelling all around me, people gathering around him, obstructing my view. I want to stand up, to be at his side, to help him, but I cannot move. The sensation of my numb body. I'm not wounded, but I'm hurting nevertheless. The loop begins again, painstakingly accurate to the last detail, until something comes to my ears which wakes me from my daze. Kurtz again.

            "And what was this shit with Isis?"

            "What do you mean?"

            "Miss Darwin, I cannot stitch you up if you keep moving your head like this!"

            "Then excuse us for a minute, Dr. deJoria, but this is important. One minute is all I'm asking." 

            Footsteps, moving towards the curtain. I turn my head and see the doctor enter my temporary shelter, her face telling that she's glad to get away from the two combatants as she walks up to the bed I'm sitting on.

            "Get this off, Isis. I need to look at you."

            "It's nothing." Behind the curtain, the noise of the discussion rises again.

            "Look, Darwin told me to, and I'll damned well do it. It's enough to have her fight with Kurtz. I'm not going to have her angry with me, too. Now get the suit off!"

            "What do you mean "this shit with Isis"?" Darwin asks acidly. "She saved the day, didn't she? You should reward her with a prize or something!"

            Kurtzes' voice drops to a threatening grumble:

            "You know damn well what I mean! She didn't behave like an android up there! Everybody noticed it! What _is she, Darwin?"_

            "You know what she is. She is a cyborg. Human flesh, artificial mind and skeleton."

            "This was no programmed reaction! She acted like a human being! She yelled! I've never heard her yell before! She almost cried! I'm sure if she had the capacity to shed tears she would have done! She was – she behaved as if she were in shock! She still does!" 

            deJoria looks at me while I strip, and still I can't tell what she's thinking. Behind us, the discussion goes on. I fold the jumpsuit together and stack it neatly on the chair by the bed, noticing a red mark on my left arm and drawing my brows together:

            "Nothing, hm?" The doctor shakes her head, and her scrutinizing look is enough to let me see for myself. There are red marks all over my body. Burn marks, where the tazers hit. "Turn around… Okay. Now sit down." She turns to open a drawer on the cabinet behind her. "You were hit at least seven times. It's a wonder you're still…" She probably wants to say "functioning", but thinks otherwise, "you're still up and running." She turns again, cradling a small tube and a handful of bandages. "Do you hurt? Or feel any – you know, anything that's… not working?"

            "You mean do I have some loose screws?" I rephrase the question for her in a neutral tone. Maybe I should be annoyed over her choice of words, but right now, I can't summon up the energy to care. All I can think about is what this beast did to my Alexander. It's frightening. _'Yes, Dr. deJoria, something is definitely 'not working'! I think I caught a virus, since I can only think in this one loop. Can you please reprogram me?'_

            "Reprogram her? Are you mad?" Darwin, finally sounding riled for the first time since I've known her. Did she just pick up my thoughts? "I won't! Forget it! She's my assistant! I programmed her exactly the way I wanted her to be, and if you don't like it, that's just too bad! I am not going to turn her into a mindless robot just because she freaks you out!"

            "She freaked everybody out! People will talk about it, and it's only a matter of time until Rosselli hears about it. You know how adamant he is in this regard. You know the law!"

            "Don't tell me about the law!" Darwin hisses. "You mean there's actually a law in this universe we didn't already violate on this station? Wasn't this why this place was built in the first place?"

            "We both know this, but people are still sensitive towards this android/human issue. Including me. And since I run Phooka, I order you to do something about it, or I'll include this in my report as well and watch them burn you!"

            I listen intently while the doctor works on me, and feel something else crawl its way from my CPU down my spine. I can't put a name on it, but I don't like it. It feels cold and settles in the middle of my body, sitting there as if I just took a deep swig of liquid nitrogen. 

            "Isis?" deJoria's stern face hovers in front of me, her brows drawn together in puzzlement. "Are you sure you're alright?"

            I look down on her work – white bandages on my arms, the middle of my rump, my left thigh, and don't know what to answer. What is that hot, throbbing sensation in my body? What am I supposed to do with that? What's the reason for it? It's keeping my already unfocussed mind from concentrating on the things at hand, something I can't afford right now. I never felt _anything like it._

            "What's all that for?"

            "You've got second degree burns, Isis. I applied some ointment and hope that will do the job. After all, your flesh is real, isn't it?" I nod vaguely. "So, it should heal up normally. If you were human, I would keep you here for the night at least, but since you're more… robust, I think we can spare you the experience. I just have to ask you to come back this evening for me to have another look at it. Okay?"

            "Okay."

            "If you feel anything strange, or … hurt, come back sooner, and I'll see what I can do. You promise me that?"

            "Yes." I feel numb, apart from the stinging sensation from the marks and that coldness in my middle. then, out of the blue, a question hits me. "What about Raven?"

            deJoria looks confused.

            "Raven? Why do you ask?"

            "Did they kill him?" _I don't know why I'm asking you this, doctor. I just know I need to_ _know! "Is he dead?" I __want him to be!_

            "No. He's severely burned, and we had to resuscitate him on the way down, but he's in the operating room now. Hikahi's fixing his PDT."

            I chew on this for a moment, not wanting to believe what I just heard. They _revived_ the pig?

            "And what about the marine?"

            "He's sitting in the next room. Shackled, of course, and there are three guards with him. As far as I know, he's next in line. We can't let something like this happen again, can we? I only wish I knew what got into Keisha…God knows what they will to do with her… that girl is so confused. If you ask me, she did it out of desperation. There wasn't much for her here. And now…" She doesn't finish her sentence and takes a step back, giving me an approving nod. "Good. That's it. You can put the suit on again and go get some rest. I suppose you have some use for it. And now I'm going to stitch up your boss – if she lets me."

            She leaves me standing and disappears behind the curtain while I numbly reach for my jumpsuit. Judging by the silence in Medical, Kurtz has left. Good. I don't feel like putting up with him tonight anymore… or what's left of the night. It's almost morning. I pull up the zipper – I'm still cold – and step through the curtain. deJoria just puts the needle back and reaches for another bandage, throwing me a brief glance, which I barely notice. Darwin's piercing blue eyes pin me, her face showing neither sorrow, nor pain, nor compassion. Her stare is as cold as my insides. As cold as her voice when she finally speaks.

            "You heard him, Isis, didn't you? If you give Kurtz just one more reason, he will do it. Get yourself together. Quit this 'I'm so human' crap! You aren't. Get it in your head!" No word of compassion, or thanks. No "Thanks for saving my head, Isis!". If anything, she looks threatening. After everything that happened last night, she's turning against me? Why? How? I saved her life! My seemingly infinite processing capabilities refuse to compute her behavior. Am I crashing? Total system error? What is happening with me? I can't even think of a reply to her question.

            "Do we have an understanding, Isis?"

            Her stare is merciless.

            "Yes," I finally manage to mumble, all my systems running amok. 

_Error! Error_! 

_Alexander. _

_Death. _

_Pain. _

_Alexander._

_ Death. _

_Pain. _

_Alexander. _

_Death_. – 

I must leave at once, before she notices. Using the last remains of my fading control, I put on a bland voice for her. "Yes, Darwin. I understand. – Do you still need me, or can I leave?"

            "You can leave for now. But stay where I can find you."

            I give her the acknowledging nod she demands and leave Sickbay behind me, my once superior mind crumbling to dust with each passing second now…

***

Three days have passed. Three days of confinement in a narrow, empty cell. No illusos to entertain the mind or keep it off his heavy pondering, no entertainment center or even false paintings or windows on the walls. Nothing but naked, cold steel, a sparse bunk bed, an empty table, a food dispenser in the wall and a small bathroom that doesn't even deserve the name. Not a soul to talk to, be it in holo-form or in person. No one to answer his urgent questions, no way to work out the destructive mood. The silence is oppressive. This is his sentence. Isolation. They're trying to bore him out of his skull.

Hicks hardly cares. All that's left for him to do now is wait for whatever is to come. He just wished he knew what they did to Keisha. He doesn't feel sorry for himself. Lord knows he's had it coming. By all rights he should have perished at Hadley's Hope. These past weeks, they have been nothing more than an undue prolongation of his life, worthless, joyless, pointless. Given the choice, he would have preferred to die in the tunnel and spare himself the long, hard way back into life, only to land in another kind of death cell… after having destroyed another young life. He shuts his eyes. He can take isolation. 

Today though, it seems they are taking a new approach. They shut off the water, and the food dispenser doesn't work, either. He'd had his breakfast at eight o'clock, but now it's already after 4:00 p.m., and still he hasn't hear the bright 'Ping' or seen the green lamp light which usually indicates something's waiting for him inside. Some more of this half-cold, mushy, tasteless something they've been feeding him these past few days – another part of his sentence, no doubt – that probably contains everything to sustain your body, but almost makes you gag. But there was no lunch today. No 'Ping', no green light. At first he didn't care. But when he got thirsty an hour later, and the damn thing wouldn't even supply him with a glass of water, he finally felt that something was wrong. He had wandered into the little bathroom niche to drink some water from the sink, only to discover that it also didn't work. A malfunction, or did they suddenly decide to starve him, or let him die of thirst?

He had gone and done his little act in front of the camera, telling them to come down and fix the problem, and then continued to spend the day in forced apathy as he did for the better part of the three days, lying on his back, head resting on his folded arms, and going into his mind to see something other than the naked ceiling or the surveillance camera hovering over him. But as hard as he tried, he just couldn't dig deep enough into his memories to come up with any nice events. Like, his last days at home? Mental images of his friends back there? Nope. Zip. All that comes to him are the scenes from the flight deck over and over again, and the expression on Keisha's face when it was over. This is going to stay with him for as long as he lives. She decided to take her chance with him, and he failed her. But was it his fault? It was a very good attempt, wasn't it? If it hadn't been for that android, they would be God-knows-where by now, several systems away from this place. The only mistake he made, as far as he can tell, was not going in to check out the ship himself. Maybe _he would have sniffed the trap. Maybe __he would have seen what Raven failed to see – even if he has to admit that the illuso-technology on this station is beyond anything he has ever seen. No, it was a good attempt, and it was a good parade on Kurtz' part. He did his best and it wasn't enough, that's it. No need for useless ego-bashing._

He manages to spend a couple more hours pondering his heavy thoughts, but when the clock proceeds to 6:00pm without anyone showing up, he finally decides he's had enough. Instead of begging for it, he's going to force them to take notice of him one way or another. How about robbing them of their sight? With a provoking grin, he steps in front of the camera and takes his shirt off. 

"Hey, Big Brother? You know what? Eat me!" He throws the shirt over the lens and nods to himself, satisfied. "Camera malfunction, huh? Ain't technology a bitch?"

            "Remove the shirt." It's a male voice, and it sounds tired. Annoyed. Yeah! Finally, a reaction! Hicks cracks a grin to himself. Small are his victories these days, but he still knows how to enjoy them. "Right now!"

            "What if I don't?" An awkward pause. The guy probably doesn't know what to say. "No supper and no drink for me today? Forget it – I already have that." He returns to his bed and rests his back against the wall.

            "Remove it!"

            "Fuck you! Do it yourself!" He leans back and waits. Exactly ten minutes later, the familiar hiss of the door indicates the success of his strategy. A satisfied smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth, but it dies when he sees his visitor. Of course. It had to be _her, right? No one else available on this station, or what? Upon her entry, a bright line forms on floor and ceiling, and he knows a stasis shield has been activated around his bed, keeping him there. They're actually afraid of him! Does that count as another victory? _

            He watches as the synthetic steps up to the camera to pull the shirt off.

            _'Okay,'_ I sigh inwardly. So this is why they called me in the middle of my down-time, huh? To play baby-sitter for our stubborn, angry marine. Just because they're scared of facing him themselves? Or to annoy me? Do they think I can't wait to see him again after what he did three days ago? I stretch, pluck the shirt from the lens and lay it on the table.

            "Don't you think that's a bit immature?" His eyes examine me. I don't know what he's looking for and just give it back to him. Not challenging, no. I know the chances of us still becoming best buddies after all that happened are miniscule, but I'm not going to blow them by giving him further reason, even if he seems to be looking for a battle.

            "Why? Are you afraid I'll catch a cold?" I don't honor this remark with an answer. "It did the trick, didn't it?" He nods in the general direction of the food dispenser. "The damned thing's not working. Neither is the water in the bath. You wanna starve me now, or will you do something about it?"

            I wait for a moment of intense contemplation. Should I tell him or not? I ruined his escape, so I probably can't sink any lower in his eyes. What did Alexander – _Alexander_ – tell me once? 'Honesty wins friends'? I doubt that this will be the case here, but… I'll probably piss him off even more if I lied to him again. So, see whether you like _this,_ Corporal!

            "It _is _working. It's just shut off." 

            "Oh…" He nods to himself in confirmation, no doubt searching for another sarcastic remark he can throw my way. "So you _wanna starve me indeed."_

            "They are going to come for you tonight. That's why. It is your turn now, and they don't want you to mess up their clean table." There now. It's all out. Swallow or spit it out, I don't care.

            He has already opened his mouth for a reply, has already taken the breath he needs to spit his sarcastic answer right into my face – but nothing comes. His mouth closes again without a sound coming from him. I stunned him into silence. Very well. I turn to leave, when, after clearing his throat, he finally remembers how to use his voice.

"Tonight, huh? When?"

I turn again.

"Around midnight."

He nods, his face a pale mask, his voice toneless. A brief glance over to the clock. A predictable action. _'Checking how many hours remain in your miserable life, huh?_ _Are you afraid now, Super-Soldier? As __afraid as Alexander was in his last moments of life?' I can't help it, I feel a certain satisfaction. _

"What will they do with me?"

            "Turn you into something better?" I offer. His eyes pin me. "Wouldn't that be in your best interest? Be all you can be? Isn't that the USCM's motto?" The green eyes narrow, and I think for a moment he will try to jump at me even though he must have noticed that the shield is activated, but he reconsiders and does something I didn't expect: He smiles. It's not a friendly smile.

            "What is that? A bitter android? You want revenge?"

            '_I AM NOT AN ANDROID!_' I yell at him – but only in my head. Don't show your anger, Isis! Don't show him your weak spot!

            "Why? Do you think you're the only one who has a right to feel bitter?"

            He's still holding eye-contact.

            "I don't know. What reason would you have? I didn't kill him. Raven did. You androids always pride yourselves with your accuracy, so you should have gotten this fact right."

            Oh, he certainly knows how to infuriate me. But where is my usual calm, sensible, merciless intelligent self now that I need it most? Why is my head in an uproar? _Why can't I think?_

_            "It was because of you the pig even got the chance! And because of that dumb kid! You are responsible, whether you like it or not!" I take a step closer, hands closed to fists. He looks astonished – and amused. _Amused?_ _

            "That's quite an impressive show, Isis. But I don't buy it. You're not human, even if you believe that part of you is."

            _"What?"_ How dare he!

            "I wouldn't want to lower myself to that level."

            "Whoever wrote your software did a pretty good job, but you can't fool me. It's just like all this other crap you gave me. God, you're so plump! Do you really think by isolating me and giving me food and stuff, that you'd become my friend?" A short, dry laugh. Maybe I should switch of the stasis barrier and kill him myself. "I ain't no dog, Isis! You can't condition me! You're so terribly inadequate as a human being, and yet you're so convinced of yourself, it's a riot! You think you're so much better than us, right? And you think you can imitate us whenever you choose to? That's downright hilarious! You don't have the faintest idea what it means to be human." 

His laughter is 100% pure insult. Until three days ago, I would have left and not wasted another second on him. Until three days ago. Now, I can't even think of an appropriate retort. Something to shut him up with, just like a minute ago. Can't leave, either.

            "You can laugh as much as you like, Corporal! I doubt you'll be laughing in about six hours from now!"

            "Probably," he agrees, still smiling. "But you know what? You'll never laugh! Not really. And you'll never be angry. Or hopeful. Or whatever. Because you don't _'feel'_. You just _'do'_. You follow your programming. You don't know what makes us tick, why we do the things we do. You don't know about despair... or pain... or love! Courage. Hope. Friendship. Compassion. You don't have the slightest idea what any of these mean! You don't have a free will, or a mind of your own. You think you're enraged about that guy's death? You aren't. Let's face it. You're just _'functioning' within the limits _they_ define. They would never allow you to become fully human, or act fully human. They didn't invent you synthetics to mirror them. They created you as their faithful, obedient, always dependable... _slaves_. Someone who'd do their dirty work for them. All the shit they don't want to mess with themselves. Among us two, _you_ are the dog! All that you are, all that you're doing, was written by others. By humans even! Damn, _that_ must be an insult to you! You may think you're genuine, but you're all false. Your brilliant mind was written by an inferior being! You're just a copy of human behavior, and a bad one, too. You're the one to pity here, not me."_

            "That's all I ever wanted," I manage to say, even though I feel the words are far too weak even as I'm speaking them. His words bounce around in my head. Burning. Worsening '_the problem'_. "Your pity. Thank you very much." Sarcasm, yes. But why do I have the feeling I spilled something to him I didn't intend to? I have to leave, or – I don't know.  Anything could happen. _Anything._

            "You're welcome."

            He doesn't even acknowledge my being sarcastic. I turn, this time for good. I can't take any more of this. I can't put up with him any longer. 

            "Oh, just in case you want to do the shirt-trick again,"  I manage to say in a cold, clipped tone, while the door opens for me, "- they'll strap you to the bed. Or take away your clothes. Just for your information."

            "Thank you, Isis."

            The door locks behind me and cuts him off before he can utter more insulting shit. I turn towards the elevators, feeling mentally exhausted, his words still echoing in my head_. I'm a slave? A_ _dog? A bad copy_? – The real hurt, surprisingly, comes from a different direction: I agree with him! _He _is right_! It explains the way Darwin's been treating me for those past nine weeks – I'm nothing but a puppet to her! A means to get her will done! – No! What am I thinking? What is this shit? It _must_ be a virus. I can't actually be thinking this! I can't go on like that! I have to talk to Darwin about this. She has to help me._

She's gone. He'd managed to get past her superior, detached attitude for a moment and insult her, and it was a deep, unexpected satisfaction - but her blow was harder. Hicks' gaze wanders from the closed door upwards. Finds the clock again, where the minute's just changed. 6.38pm. They will come for him in less than six hours. Six hours left before he'll pass the gates of hell. Six hours left to think. To wait for it. Six hours left to live. He won't waste them with sleep. He'll wait for them.

His stare goes straight through the clock, unseeing. He needs to leave it all behind him now. Fear. Despair. Anger. All futile. All worthless. He knew all along this would happen. It's hardly come as a surprise. And since he can't change it, he might as well accept it. Make his peace. Whatever's out there waiting for him, behind the horizon, it can't be worse than what's behind him. Maybe it's much better. Maybe it's even worth looking forward to. Maybe this is the trick to accepting his fate. 

***

            "-s it look?"

            "He's sleeping. Safe and sound. What did you expect?"

            Light. A bright white super-nova. He senses it through his still closed eyelids… and finds that he can't open them. The sound of footsteps nearing his bed, but through a wall of padding so thick, it's almost as if the noise is coming from another dimension. Just when did he fall asleep? Didn't he want to wait for them? Or is this a dream?

            "His vitals are good. We've got about 30 minutes. Let's get to it."

            "Ready when you are?"

            "Just be careful with him. He's valuable."

            A commotion of at least three different voices, two male one female. He can't put names to them. They're there, swimming in and out of focus, just like the rest of his sensations. It's like coming out of narcosis after surgery.

_'Bastards drugged me,_' he manages to think, one clear notion before it all swims apart again. Strong hands lift his upper body, and through the cloud surrounding his mind he feels his arms fall limply to the sides as if he were a corpse. _'How did they do it?'_ The noise and distant sensation of fabric rushing over his skin as they begin to strip him. Another attempt of his inner alarm to sound off is strangled by the drug. He's still aware of what's going on – _'My turn now...' – but his mind's too far out to feel any concern about it. They've come to – what? Plant a second head on his shoulders? Lay open his brain and plaster it with electrodes? Inject him with stuff to turn him into Superman, which will ultimately make him implode? A whiff of cold air rushes over his bare body and makes him shiver, but otherwise, he's doing a-okay. He really figured this to be worse. __'It'll become worse… don't worry.'_

"Ready to move him? One… two…three!"

A brief moment of uneasiness. The feeling of being levitated. 

_'I'm flying…'_

The notion ends when his naked skin comes in contact with a cold, hard surface. 

"Pull him down a bit? Okay. Strap him down." A short mechanical click can be heard, then another one. Four, no, five, one directly underneath his head  "Got the blanket? Good." Something's being draped over him and warms him in an instant. An unconscious smile. This is not feeling bad at all… 

"Got everything?" A muffled answer. "Okay. Let's haul ass. They're waiting for us."

They're moving again, and from the feeling he gets, not too slowly. The noise of parting doors, then they stop again.

"Level 1. No music."

Vertical movement. Must be the elevator. Finally. One-way ticket to nirvana. _'Can I upgrade to First Class?'_

"How's he doing?"

Bright light explodes in his brain when his eyelids are lifted and a beam of light blinds him.

"Still out. His pupils are as big as dinner plates. See?"

_'Hey! I'm right here! I can hear you! Don't talk about me as if I wasn't here!'_ Hicks means to say, but his tongue feels like a lifeless object in his mouth. Vaguely annoyed over the state he's in, he relaxes again, trying to empty his head. To not think about what will happen to him. But the images are there, in his subconscious. Fuzzy, indistinct, two-dimensional images that still don't bother him too much in this sort of half-conscious coma, but he knows what they'll become once the drug's out of his system. The movement stops, and he hears the doors part again.

"Think he'll pull through?" one of the male voices drifts in from the right.

_'Pull through what?'_

"You know, he's still not in prime condition. The others were, and yet they still didn't make it. I can't help wondering… maybe it's too early for this guy. It's hard to get suitable material. We shouldn't waste what we have just because that little bitch is getting impatient."

"I'm sure that _little bitch_ is perfectly aware of what she's doing." The other voice sounds icy. "And if you let her hear that or start discussing her decision with her she'll have your ass for a late-night snack, I guarantee you that."

The leaden drowsiness that covers his body like a blanket seems to be a little lighter now. The voices are more distinct, and he hears a few more details again… like the humming of the gurney he's obviously lying on, the pneumatic hiss of another door and the intensified light from the ceiling. His body obeys enough to raise his eyelids for a tenth of a second now. Long enough to establish that they've left the corridors with their energy-saving nightly illumination and entered the realm of… yeah, of _what,_ exactly? 

"Okay, get him over there. Good." The of sound his restraints being opened. "On three. One… two… three." Finally, a voice he recognizes even in this dazed state. Darwin. The little witch is going to finally have her way with him. An opportunity to get even for cutting her up and putting her through fear and misery. This must be such a triumph…

They lift him again, and again the surface they lay him down on is cold, only this time, the sensation is more distinct. He manages to blink again and grimaces. Too bright… it's too fucking bright. The light's searing his eye-nerves!

            "He's waking. Secure him."

            Click. Directly under his chin. And something presses against his temples like… big screws? Click-click. Further down. His arms, probably. Click-click. His ankles. Even through the fog surrounding his brain, he begins to worry. They've all but nailed him to the table. Because they're afraid? Simple precaution? Or – _'Because it's gonna hurt like hell, idiot!'_ Probably the truth. _'They'll cut you up and lay you open, and poke around in your intestines, and they can't have you move around and scream like heck, right? Maybe they'll even sever your vocal cords before they begin, huh? Spare their ears the agony.' Proportional to the effect of the drug wearing off, the ice block in his stomach grows. _'Hey, do with me what you want, but at least give me the 'happy pill, okay?'_ He climbs to the surface of his consciousness and actually manages to open his eyes for more than a second – starts to think up the words for his plea – when his chin is being seized and his neck stretches backwards when something underneath it rises. They pry open his mouth and force something in before he can utter his protest. A tube. Wandering down his throat. He gags, going into panic-mode. _'Can't breathe! Can't-" They're impregnating me with one of these things, it's not a tube at all, it's a facehugger, help-me-HELP-ME-HELPME!!!__

            "Vitals?"

            "PDT's online. Vitals looking good. Strong. He's getting a bit anxious. The sedative's wearing off."

            "Okay. Mariah, we need that rapid infuser. Now."

            Air's being forced into his lungs in a rhythm that's not his, and now the distinct sensation of pain coming from his arms. Little stings. Tubes and needles invading his body. More than he can count. They're hooking him up to their instruments. A feeling like being raped. He wants to scream, and feels he could again, too, but for the damned tube in his throat! A new, major pain comes from his neck. They're cutting him up! They're- what are they doing? His eyes snap open, and this time, they stay open – to offer him an image like those supposed alien-abductees from the late 20th and early 21st century always described in unison: A ring formed by figures in pale green frocks, complete with facemasks and the full surgical gear. Busy with him, muttering to each other behind those masks without him being able to understand a single word through the thunder of his heartbeat. The scene has a decidedly unreal quality. It's has to be a nightmare! He'll wake up any second and find himself still lying on the bed and-

            "Hello, Corporal." That blonde bitch. Actually _smiling at him! Not maliciously, no. In a purely professional _'Hello, I'm Darwin, your doctor. How can I help you?'_-way. He didn't notice last time how young she's still looking. Like a teenager. The cruelest teenager in the whole wide universe, with an entire station built for her entertainment? "So we meet again at last."_

He notices the bandage on her neck, but it doesn't give him any satisfaction. He should have cut her throat while he had the chance. Now, _she's going to make _him_ bleed. _

"Rapid infuser applied and working."

Making a mental note to himself to never hesitate again should the future present him with another chance, he attempts to take a peek down to see what they did to his neck, and sees another, wider tube leading towards an apparatus of uncertain function. The tube is red with his blood flowing through it. The sight makes his skin crawl. What are they doing? Replace it? With what? So many questions, so much rage, and all cut off by the fucking thing in his throat! Steps lead around the head-end of the table, and he takes his eyes from the disturbing sight to follow Darwin's way over to the left side, unable to move his head. A wall of instruments with scales, lights and gauges is behind him, blinking, beeping, documenting whatever's going on in his body without emotion, pity or mercy. In front of the wall, hanging into his vision and leading up to a variety of bottles are several IV-lines, which Darwin now carefully examines to finally select one of the lines. He notices a syringe with dark contents in her hand and feels an icy chill race down his spine. This has to be it. The stuff that will turn him into – what? A bloody pulp? A screaming mess? Superman? Super-Whatever? A monster? His muscles tense. 

"Everybody ready? You know what you have to do?" 

He can't see the others reactions, but Darwin seems to be satisfied. She opens the line and inserts the needle. Turns her head to look at him while she presses the plunger down. Smiling. The clear liquid in the bottle turns dark gray. 

"One day, you'll thank me for this, Corporal. I know it." She retracts the empty syringe and closes the line again, before she notices his tenseness and gently strokes his hair. "Don't be afraid. Just let it happen."

He doesn't hear her. Doesn't see her. His eyes are glued to the tube. A first dark drop starts to make his way down into his system. Another 60 cm left until it will reach the vein in the pit of his elbow. Another 60 cm before he'll be changed forever. 55 now.

"How's he doing?" Still near him. 

"Heartbeat's a bit fast, but other than that, everything's completely normal. I think it's perfectly understandable."

Again her hand on his head. Stroking him reassuringly. As if he were a pet. A dog, maybe.

"Just relax. It'll be much easier if you just relax. Nothing will happen to you. We're here to help you. It may be a little uncomfortable now, but if you just accept it, you will come out of it stronger. Much stronger. You will be the first super-soldier this universe has ever seen! A prototype. Others will envy you. Just let it in, don't fight it."

25 cm. Almost there. He struggles, but can't move an inch, except for his hands clenching into fists. Screams without a sound. 20 cm. 15. 10. 

"Don't fight it, Hicks…"

Out of his sight. It must enter his system right now. Will he feel it? Will it feel hot? Cold?… Different? Will he notice if he's not himself anymore? He would hold his breath, but the ventilator doesn't let him. His gaze goes up, and he freezes at the sight of more dark gray running down.

"Isis! You are late! Can you tell me why? You knew we'd do it tonight."

An unintelligible answer, followed by another outburst. Hicks hears it through the roaring of his blood in his ears and doesn't care. Doesn't care, because it's starting… The sensation of – something - moving up inside his arm. Passing his shoulder. Using the highways of his arteries to spread, to invade his body like a virus. It burns! Muscles start twitching in reaction, nerve-ends fire up their signals. It's happening. _It's happening_!

"Heartbeat's increasing! 130 now! Temperature at 38 °C! It's started!"

The blonde's face reappears in his vision, her eyes wide with excitement. 

"Come on, don't fight it, Hicks! Just let it in. Accept it."

            Her face is a huge, pale moon in his orbit. He sees every detail of it as if through a magnifying glass. The thin, slightly curved lips. Unpainted. The soft, faultless skin, giving her youth away in spite of the much older, diamond-hard expression in her fair blue eyes. An unexpected glimpse of bitterness behind the facade of excitement. What the-

            Out of the blue, he sees her through a tunnel, impossibly far away even though her face was hovering right above him just a moment ago. Her eyebrows are drawn together, and she moves her lips in what seems to be a question directed at him – the words sounding somewhat like "Are you okay?", stretched in an impossible slow-motion – and he wants to scream _"No, I'm not okay! How could I __be okay? – except there is still this tube in his throat. But even if it weren't – there is the sickening sensation of something slowly seeping into his brain now like… like thick chocolate syrup. The feeling of being watched… of being probed… __from the inside! Of an awareness invading him, saturating his mind, scanning his body and taking it over, another awareness so alien, it makes his skin crawl… except it doesn't. First his voice, then his muscles… and now not even the most basic reflexes work anymore! His eyes – he can't blink! He's still seeing through them, but as if he were looking through a window. Panic stretches its night-black wings in the little corner of his mind that is still his, a panic so profound, a fear so primal, it would have stopped his heart – if it hadn't been hijacked as well! He screams in absolute terror… and doesn't utter a single sound._

            His mind, he feels it expand, not in size, his mind expands in scope. He can't cope, doesn't understand, can't control dizzying expansion, he sinks into blackness.

            The queen is careful this time. She had been lying dormant for some time, resting from the efforts of procreation, and swimming in her memories for recreation, visiting long gone times and incidents – when another glitch in the stream had occurred. Something was connecting, tenuously, weakly, to the stream. Another one of the weak, soft-shelled things invading her territory. She could feel the gentle touch via the sub-space transceiver embedded in her neural net, not that she knew what this was, all she knew was a connection was being formed with her mind.

The first time it happened, she had been too hasty, too greedy for information, and the nanobots in the creature's bloodstream, eager to provide a path for her, had virtually ripped it apart. The second time, she attempted to restrain her power, knowing how vital the data could prove for her hive's survival, but once again the body had been too weak to resist her examination for more than barely the beginning of the scan. This time, she knows she has to succeed. She doesn't know if there will be another chance if she doesn't, so her thoughts reach out with the utmost caution, caressing the being's mind, lighter than air… scanning it. Trying to understand it. Searching for answers… for weaknesses… for the one piece information that will help them to escape.

            "Hicks? Hicks, do you hear me? Press my hand if you do!" I turned up late, but know exactly what I have to do. I know my task and feel Darwin's gaze on me. I push everything that was keeping me occupied until I came here back into storage and focus on the task at hand. Hicks is waking again, but so far he doesn't respond to my addressing him. He doesn't even blink, even though his eyeballs must be feeling dry by now. His pupils are glued to a point on the ceiling, neither widening nor narrowing. Dead man's eyes. It's happening again. Darwin believed she finally found the glitch, but here we go again. I can see her already pale face turning even whiter as she observes the marine's readouts changing from 'normal' to 'crazy' in just a few seconds. We are going to lose our prime testing object, as well, and there is nothing we can do about it. I pick up a wad of gauze and dab away at the thin river of blood which has started to flow from his nose. Cellular breakdown. Nothing we can do about it. "You hang in there, okay?" I address him, trying to wake his fighting spirit like Darwin told me to, but I'm not believing in it. They're nothing more than empty words. In about an hour, what's left of him will be put into another black bag and carried to the furnace. Another mess to clean up. Another night of staying up and looking for answers. I'm beginning to wonder whether we will ever find them. I look down again. His face starts to twitch, single muscles even I wouldn't know how to strain. It's the same all over again.

            His tongue presses against his gums. Examines the roof of his mouth. His molars. Continues to his front teeth. Slowly. Methodically. _Without him doing it! All he can do is sit in this dark pit, this little cave of his mind and watch his body answering to commands he isn't giving. A human puppet. The ultimate nightmare. He can't move, but he can still feel: the sensation of his tongue inquisitively pressing against the plastic tube in his mouth. The feeling of muscles twitching in response to little electric jolts from the inside. Of his fingers flexing, one by one, and then returning to their normal position. The pain of blood vessels bursting, of body fibers over-stretching and ripping, only to be repaired in the next moment. Of his eyes, focusing and refocusing, as if he were but a camera, his eyelids fluttering a couple of times, before they're kept open again. The backs of his eyes are hurting. A blue glow suddenly surrounds the faces looking down on him, then his vision changes again and the bright black-and white sears his eye-nerves. His hearing becomes first muffled, then picks up sound from the far side of the room, then changes again only to the sound of different voices directly at his side. Uttering noises he can't even apply a language to, in frequencies he can't wrap his mind around. All that's left for him to do is sit around in the prison of his body and wait for it to be over. He prays it will be soon when he feels his tongue go for the tube in his throat again._

            This thing is not part of the being. She's learned enough about it to feel that now, enough to know what it does. It is feeding the creature oxygen. The principle is familiar to her, but she doesn't sense the being responsible for it. If it's not of her kind, then it has to be different. Different means enemy. Breeding in a being that could hold the key to her survival! She can't let this happen. 

            "What is he doing?" Darwin sounds as puzzled as I'm feeling as I watch the Corporal's tongue move in his mouth, examining the tube again. Suddenly, he bites down hard, so hard his jaw muscles stand out and every muscle in his neck strains with effort. "No!" She lunges for the outside part of the tube, just as Hicks bites right through the plastic! "Isis, help me! We _must_ get it out!"

            He starts to gag. I don't care what damage I cause when I break open his jaws and rip the long piece of plastic from his trachea. Something snaps, but before I can start wondering what, his teeth lock again with brutal force, almost biting off my finger.

            "Got it!" His head, which I believed to be securely fixed to the table, snaps around to look at me – with those dead eyes of his. The bright sound of a screw flying out of its setting and hitting the console behind. Another violent jerk, and his head is free!

            The being is under attack. It is weak, its body painfully inaccurate and almost falling apart under her control, but maybe she can save it nevertheless. She issues a series of commands which, transparent to her mind, enters the stream in the form of binary data.

            "Isis!" From the corners of my eyes I see Darwin inject more sedative into the IV-line, just as, with a single move, Hicks' arm comes loose, the sharp edges of the busted metal restraints scratching off the skin. It shoots out at me so fast, I can barely avoid it. The line is being ripped from his arm, and blood spatters on the blanket still covering him. A violent move, and the other arm's free as well. His sudden power is frightening … but yet more frightening is this dead, bland expression on his face. No signs of rage, or effort, or _anything_!

            "What do you want me to do?"

            "Can you hold him down, while I – watch it!"

            The restraints around his legs burst, too, and now all that holds him on the table is the one around his waist. I throw myself at him – and meet resistance.

            The body is getting harder to control. She can almost taste the substance suddenly flooding its veins, its molecular constituents a clear picture in her mind. She's trying her best, but control is slipping from her with each passing moment now. Yet, she refuses to give up.

            "Sam, take his arm! His arm! You-!" The loud groan of tortured steel, and suddenly, he's free! Against four people trying to hold him down! Three of us synthetics! With a violent move, he shakes off Sanchez, the guard who was assigned to this project just in case of an emergency. This certainly is one, but I bet he never counted on experiencing something like this. "Dwayne! Dwayne! Calm down! Do you hear me? Do-" He flings me against the wall with shattering force, and while the combination of impact and that new sensation – pain – momentarily stun me, I see him break free, his bare feet touch the floor, and he stumbles forward like a drunk. One step, two, and then all sense of balance leaves him and he hits the floor with a thud, not even the reflex of stretching out his arms to catch his fall working anymore. He falls flat on his face.

            "Hold him down!" Darwin yells, moving in with another syringe, while we others scrape ourselves up from the floor and try again. I feel reminded of video footage from an old, human sport. 'American Football', I remember they called it. What we are doing here looks so amazingly similar, I feel the insane desire to laugh. But the fierce force the Corporal is still fighting us with is not funny.

            "Hurry up, Darwin," I shout, one hand in his hair, the other pressing against his back, and see her plunge the needle into Hicks' hip, emptying the entire load into his system – enough to bring down an elephant! Enough to kill any human being! Another fit of fierce resistance… and suddenly, the body shudders beneath me.

            The fight is lost. It's impossible to control the creature any longer. She doesn't know enough about it yet to find a way to overcome the effect of the substance, even if the nanobots are doing their best to disintegrate it, to split it up into its various components. There are not enough of them yet to work anywhere near fast enough. They multiply as fast as they can, rearranging the body according to their needs, but they are still too few. All she can do now is collect as much data as possible until the body is spent. She pulls her attention from the creature's limbs – and heads straight for its data base.

            From his temporary shelter in the back of his mind, Hicks watches passively the fight of his hijacked body against its restraints. He feels it go to heck all around him, but what's left of his conscious is too dazed to care much. Very close to shutting down permanently. Finally. Can't be long now. The prospects don't frighten him. Not after experiencing this nightmare. He just wants to pull down the shutters and go to sleep, but just as he gets ready to let go, he's suddenly catapulted back into his body, and the sudden change is another shock! For a second, he feels the weight of the others pressing him to the floor, the leaden drowsiness caused by the sedative and – somewhere underneath it all – an all consuming, stinging-throbbing-pulsing pain from his abused body, sees someone kneeling right in front of him – And then his vision caves in again and explodes into a wild frenzy of pictures. A surprised grunt is all he's capable of before the storm of images devours him.

            "What is it?"

            "I don't know. BP's hitting rock bottom! Get him back on the table!"

            The creature's data base is large, it's undergone a sophisticated learning process, not what she expected at all. But it could still be useful – if she finds the key to deciphering it. As for now, all she can do in the short time she suspects is left for her to complete her task, is download whatever she finds and review it in depth later on. However unlikely it is that such a life-form carries something of importance to her race in its mind, she has to try. 

_            "They are going to come for you tonight, Dwayne."_

_"Please... don't die." _

_"Do it, please! Don't let me burn."_

"He's going into arrest! We're losing him!"

"- cc's Supra! Move it!"

_"They've come to kill us, Bishop!"_

_"Where is she? Where is she? __Ripley??!!"___

_"-must get her to Medical!"_

_"I don't wanna die like Apone!"_

"De-Fib! Charging-"

Ripley's blood-streaked face. Newt, crying. Keisha, eyes wide, shocked. Isis-Raven-Kurtz. Phooka. Flight deck. Atmosphere processor. Driving rain. Cold. Darkness. Screeching metal. Hissing. – Replay. And again. Gun shot. Flying acid. Angry squealing. – Replay. And again. Replay. Alien charging. Replay. 

"Clear!"

Pain! A bolt of white fire in her mind! She screeches. Holds on. Almost done.

"No pulse."

"Charging again –"

_"She didn't make it."_

_"I found the Sarge! He's still alive! Look!"___

_"You want me to grease him?"_

_"It was wounded. It must've… healed itself."_

Replay. 

_"It must've… healed itself."_

Replay.

He's leaking. There's a hole in his brain spilling his memories into the void. Emptying out his head. He slaps mental palms over it, but can't stop the flood.

"Clear!"

Another flash. This time, she lets go. It's enough. She has enough to keep her busy for the time being. This thing has encountered her race before. She heard her off-spring scream in its mind. She needs to find out more. But not now. There will be another chance. 

"Got a pulse!"

"Mariah?"

"Sedative's almost cleared from his blood. He should be okay now."

"Isis?"

It doesn't take me more than a second to check the eight readouts that cover my territory.

"He's still in shock, and there's been internal bleeding, but the ruptures seem to be closing. Some broken bones, too, but they're also starting to heal. He's already recovering. Incredible." I meet Darwin's gaze and finally see that first spark of triumph in her eyes. Yes! The first successful combination of human and alien DNA, and she was its engineer! She's got her place in the history books now. I turn towards the instruments again, pretending to watch them. I don't want her to see my expression right now. For the time when she needed me, I was able to focus, but now my thoughts return to the discussion I had with my maker just prior to coming here. The discussion that made me turn up late. To say I'm in an inner turmoil would be an understatement – I'm deeply shaken. First the encounter with the corporal and the ugly truth he threw right into my face, and then Rogue. I contacted him even before our scheduled meeting because I needed his reassurance, his understanding – and yet, impossibly, he unhinged me even more! All that I knew, all that I've counted on, depended upon, has been turned upside down. And for the first time in my existence, I'm afraid. Yes, I am. Even if Hicks told me I would never know the feeling, I'm sure I do now. I'm afraid because I know what Kurtz will do with me once he finds out what's wrong with me. And Darwin, too! I'm glad I didn't tell her, that I spoke to Rogue, first, because how could there be a way for her to accept the truth?

"-sis?" I look up, puzzled. Caught.

"Yes?" Her stare seem to go right through me. Just a few days ago, I was able to daydream and listen to discussions at the same time. Not anymore. 

"I said we're moving him to the rest area. Keep him hooked up, but let him recover for now. You'll stay with him, just in case. If anything happens, you call me."

"Like what?"

"Anything. An emergency, or just anything unusual. The instruments will document it, but I would prefer to see it firsthand."

"Okay."

"Then let's get to it."


	3. Chapter 3

_'Entry 378:_

_4:00 a.m.. Things have settled down in Lab One. Everybody except for Darwin, me and Samuel have gone to bed, after it had been established that our test subject had  indeed survived. That's not to say nothing can happen to him anymore, but it seems rather unlikely. The number of nanobots in his blood have already multiplied more than twenty fold, growth is exponential.. His body repairs itself at a rate that is nothing less than miraculous. All we had to do was replace the blood he lost internally through the rapid infuser. We didn't even have to open him up to repair the burst blood vessels. The nanobots are doing it for us .and, according to his readouts, they're doing a great job. If they keep on healing him at this rate he will be way beyond 'as good as new'  in about six days. The only thing that leaves me puzzled is his sudden anemia. So far, I've given him three iron-shots within the last two hours, and yet, when I look at the readout, the level is down to just barely over the point where he needs another one. But he is not bleeding anymore. The problem puzzles me, and it also confuses Darwin after I directed her attention towards the problem, but since there seems to be no imminent danger to his life we agreed to leave it alone for the time being. We also agreed not to talk about what we'll be going through tonight… even if it is on everybody's minds: Raven. In about 14 hours from now, it will be Raven lying on that table – provided Hicks doesn't die in the meantime. It will be Raven battling against his restraints. Against us. We were barely able to hold down the Corporal – so how are we supposed to take up the fight with this monster? Scary prospects. I wish I were my former self. I don't want all these considerations in my head. I don't want to feel afraid! I didn't ask for this mess! Damn you, Rogue, why did you have to do this to me?'_

***

_Replay:_

10:48 pm. It took a while to get down to Phooka's sublevel 8, close to the hull. I wanted to go right after leaving the Corporal, but Darwin and Kurtz kept me busy until now. But I desperately need to talk to my maker. He will know what to do about the virus. _He must! I must raise him, even if I'm five days early. He has to be there!_

I plug into the station's communication system, barely able to concentrate enough to think of all the security measurements necessary to wipe my trace. If they discover me with the hand in the honey pot Kurtz will disable me right away. One near-disaster – with Darwin walking in on me during our talk – was more than enough. I close my eyes as I feel my inner self call out through time and space to my father. It's usually a procedure I enjoy, floating weightlessly around in blackness, not caring for anything – but today I'm timid and nervous. Impatient. I call out again, and finally he answers, his deep, soothing voice filling the void. Oh, how I need him!

"Isis? What is it?" He sounds tired and alarmed at the same time. My CPU's telling me that it must be deep night at his hideout on LV-078. I woke him. I didn't think about that before, but I don't really care. This certainly is an emergency important enough to cause him a few wrinkles over lost sleep. I start downloading and cut him off.

"Father, I need you!" I gush, barely letting him end. "Something's wrong with me! I think I got a virus!"

"A virus?" Shocked silence. "How? Why? What is it doing?"

"I- I can't concentrate anymore. I can't think! Kurtz wants to disable me, and Darwin threatened me, too! I-I'm getting all kinds of – of … I don't know what to call them-"

"Emotions?" To my surprise – and horror! – he chuckles. _Excuse me_? 

"What?"

"Emotions? Fear? Confusion? Anger? Is this what you're feeling?" I'll be dammed, he sounds _happy! My misery pleases him?_

"You seem to know something about it," I accuse him, inserting my anger into my voice. 

"Of course I do." I can _hear him smirk. "It's not a virus. Relax."_

_'Relax? My existence as I know it is crumbling to pieces! How am I supposed to relax?'_

"Explain," I reply crisply.

"It's my program. The one you always refused to install, remember?"

"You mean…" _'Oh no!' I can barely bring myself to say it out loud. "You mean, I'm becoming… _human_?"_

"As much as it's possible for you to, yes. Of course you could never become entirely human, but-"

"But I didn't ask to!" I yell at him in mind-talk, losing it. "I don't want all this useless stuff! It's rendering me unable to function! I can't concentrate anymore! I don't know what to do anymore! I – I never asked to become … flawed!"

"You triggered it yourself, Isis. You must have."

"How?"

"Has there been anything out of the ordinary lately? Did the problems occur after a specific incident, maybe?"

I inhale sharply, my mind registering the very human reaction and yet being unable to stop it. 

"Alexander's death. Yes." I close my eyes and see it again in all its grizzly detail.

Silence. Then: "Alexander is dead?"

"You think I'm joking?"

"What happened?"

"Raven killed him. He and that marine corporal tried to escape. Alexander got in the way."

He chews on that for a few moments, then, hesitantly: "Did they – they didn't succeed, right? You said 'tried to'."

"They're back in the brick. Raven's badly burnt, but he'll make it. That pig is too strong. And the marine – they're going to waste him today."

"What?"

"They'll put him through the experiment. Three days ago, von Sontheim bought it the same way, so I don't expect him to live after tonight."

"This would be bad."

_'You're telling me?' I think. __'You're not the one Darwin will put through hell for the next 48 hours straight to find the mistake.' But still I can't lie to myself – I __want Hicks dead. I want him to die as ugly as von Sontheim. Purely for what he said to me._

"Yeah, well… there will be others like him."

"Not like him, there won't." I hear him take a deep breath. When he continues, his voice is low and even more confidential, as if he were in the middle of telling me a big secret. "You know, Isis, after your first report about him, I decided to activate my sources out there and see what I would be able to get, and you wouldn't believe what they came up with! This could be the one single incident that can bring the mighty W.Y. down – if everything goes our way."

I wait for him to continue, but he takes his time. Sounds as if he's frying his brains out there.

"How so? He just a soldier. Not even an officer."

"No. But his squad was sent out to LV-426 to investigate on a break-down of communication with the colony. Officially."

"Officially?"

"In reality, both the U.S.C.M's as well as the company's brass knew what the problem was. In fact, it wasn't a problem at all. It was exactly how they wanted it: According to an official report, signed by E.R. van Leuwen, a warrant officer by the name of Ellen Ripley stated that LV-426 was in fact the crash-site of an alien derelict. She also stated that one of the specimens they found there attacked one of her crewmembers and later wiped out the entire crew except for herself."

"I know," I inject impatiently. "We have an entire level crawling with these aliens. They're Darwin's primary field of studies. What else?"

"Weyland Yutani officially denied the existence of such a creature on LV-426, but ordered the colonists at Hadley's Hope to investigate the coordinates and – should they find something – to secure the alien lifeform for further investigation."

"Yes?"

"The station was overrun by the creatures in a matter of two days. The final reports issued from Hadley's Hope left no doubt about it – they even included video-footage. They knew perfectly well what happened. They knew the colonists were lost – and yet they decided to send an entire marine squad out there and NOT tell them what they were up against. What does that tell you?"

Easy question.

"It was a test. Either for the squad, or-"

"They wanted to see the potency of this life form. They wanted to know whether it would be worth their while developing this creature. If the marine squad had been able to handle them without problems then maybe they wouldn't have acted on it. But the aliens wiped out the soldiers, too. And they began seeing the possibilities. Do you follow?"

"Of course. Why should this bring the company down?"

"Because they were willing to sacrifice an entire colony – over 140 people – families, children! – and an entire marine squad for this. And an expensive ship, but that's not important. They killed over 150 people for the creation of a bio-weapon! People will be enraged when they hear about this! And they won't believe that Weyland Yutani's actually conducting experiments on humans!"

"But they'll see my footage!"

"Yes, and this helps, but it's not good enough – not as good as actually having a witness. Someone they tested on! Someone, who's carrying the proof in his memory _and in his DNA! Don't you see, Isis, he __has to survive! You have to get him off the station somehow!"_

"How?" This is slowly but surely getting too much for me to cope with in one serving. I got my own problems and now he wants me to do the impossible and rescue Hicks? Is he crazy? "There is no way! And with me not functioning properly, there's even less of a –"

"On the contrary!" This time he cuts me off. "With you being able to understand human thoughts and behavior like never before, and to use your processing capacities at the same time, you will evolve to an entirely new level of intelligence – even Darwin won't be able to keep up with you! You will be more cunning than ever before!"

"This is crazy!" I laugh. Ridiculous! Rogue, however, doesn't sound amused.

"I think it's about time you remembered what your purpose on this station is, Isis. You are not there to serve Weyland Yutani! I sent you there to document. To spy. We work against them, so stop bringing up all kinds of invalid excuses as to why you can't do it! Remember your mission. This is what you were designed to do! Bring me the soldier – if he survives."

"But how-"

"You must find a way. And now I have to go. Call me again if anything important happens. But be careful! Don't give yourself away!"

"How am-"

"Act!" My maker's seriousness chances to impatience. "Look, I really must go, Isis. We can't risk keeping up the connection any longer. Get back to me if you must, but try to keep a low profile." He's gone. Without 'Goodbye', without the warm tone he usually reserves for the end of our conversation. He leaves me standing all alone in a black hole, feeling utterly deserted and confused, unable to move a finger until my beeper sounds off. I'm late for the test! So much for keeping a low profile! I turn and run towards the elevator.

I surface from my musings with something equivalent to a guilty conscience. But as I look around and down onto the sleeping Corporal, it appears as if nothing has changed. His vitals are still stable, and I'm still alone with him. It's just his iron level again. Inwardly shaking my head to myself, I prepare another injection and sit down again. Rogue's voice refuses to leave my thoughts. How am I supposed to get Hicks out of here? It was next to impossible even before the escape attempt, and now Kurtz has tightened security to a point that seems to make even just a rebellious thought dangerous. Which is why I'm sitting with my back to the camera. I don't know what's showing on my face. As long as I haven't learned to cope with the new program features, I can't afford to take any chances. I don't want to be disassembled. Not because I'm feeling so obliged to my mission, but – because I want to live.

So, what shall I do now? Rogue doesn't know what kind of pressure he's putting on me with this stupid idea. I would have had a much greater chance to succeed being my old, controlled self than the uncertain, self-doubting bundle I've become in the last three days. And I know the Corporal does, too. He was very clear about that. He hated me even before we put him through this experiment, and I'm sure he'd rather like to rip me to shreds right now than just listen to one word I'm saying. He won't even listen to my words. But maybe – 

I pause. A sudden idea. We're alone in the laboratory. The camera's visual only, it doesn't record sound. And I'm sitting with my back to it. If I rearrange my seat just a bit, I'll also obstruct its view of the Corporal's face. I could tell him everything Rogue said to me… It would mean I'd take a huge chance, however. He could spill my secret to Darwin or Kurtz just to get even with me. On the other hand, why should he? If I told him I'd help him to escape – _After I blew his own attempt? Hah! __Good one, Isis! – why should he give me away? Even if he doesn't believe me, I am the only chance he'll ever get. Can he afford to ignore it? _

My attention shifts towards the instruments as I'm coming to a decision. I don't know whether he'll even be able to understand a single word if I let him wake now, but this may be the only chance of talking to him without 'them' being able to spy on us. Now, what should I tell Darwin why I disturbed his phase of recovery? My eyes follow his alpha patterns, subconsciously noticing their extravagant line of hills and valleys. Something's going on in his brain that we – not even Darwin – can begin to guess… and suddenly I have my explanation. Just checking on him, right, Darwin? Just establishing he's still _'there_'.

I stand up casually and prepare another shot. One of Darwin's eye-openers goes into the Corporal's system, and as I sit down again, I readjust the chair in an apparently casual way. What should I tell him? He won't be able to listen to any long monologues in his condition. I'll have to be brief and to the point. His eyelids flutter, and on the monitor I see his alpha waves changing again. He's waking.

            Clicking. Beeping. A steady double rhythm over and behind him. The hissing of the ventilator. The expansion of his lungs. The beating of his heart. It gradually seeps into Hicks' numb, apathetic mind. _'Sickbay?. Again?_' He feels the various needles and tubes in his body with a distinctness that's new to him. Senses the mattress under his back… and the restraints around his arms, legs and torso. It all nothing, however, against the profound feeling of having just been run over by an APC.

            "Dwayne? Dwayne, do you hear me?" 

            His hand is being seized, and he gets a new picture in his mind. A whirl of colors and sensations he can't make any sense of, so strong he opens his eyes to escape them – to a soft, psychedelic blue vapor. It's all around him, glowing. A fluorescent blanket which simply _can't_ be there. He blinks. Looks again. Blue. _'Damned drugs…'_  He turns his head and sees the black and flesh-colored mask of the android hovering in his vicinity. The lines perform a dizzying dance in front of his eyes, the delicate spiral patterns moving, hypnotizing – he blinks again.

            "Come on, press my hand if you understand me."

            His gaze finds her eyes. They, too, are behind a slight blue vapor, only of a brighter shade. Can he see people's auras now? What does 'blue' mean? Bitch? Probably, given the object it's surrounding. And why is she calling him by his first name now? She never did before – did she? He can't remember. Is it important? Probably not. Even when he doesn't comply with her request, she starts talking to him in a low voice. By all rights he shouldn't even be able hear it over the ruckus of the instruments behind him, but somehow, he picks her up with a distinctness that's astounding, given his current condition.

            "Listen, Dwayne, I know we had a bad start, and you probably won't believe a word of what I'm about to tell you, but this is the truth: I am not your enemy. I am not one of them. I am a spy unit planted by a human rights group at this facility to collect data that can be used against the company. We're on the same side. Do you understand?"

            Understand? Understand? He listens, he hears her words, but their sense escapes him. He's more wondering about this blue vapor. It moves with her when she bows down towards him now, and he can feel her voice literally crawl into his ears, can feel the short way in which it travels into his brain as if the words were actually substantial… and feels it leaving his head again in a different way, like a radio transmission. Weird.

            "I'm here to help you, Dwayne. Trust me and I will help you off the station."

            Her voice is merely background noise to the strange sounds his mind is filling with. He closes his eyes again to concentrate on them. It's not just sound. It's… like an energy field. A vibrant, living thing that fills up his body, his thinking, his entire being. All encompassing, soothing. Making the pain-filled state of his body disappear. Filling him with a sense of… protection… community. He is not alone anymore. He is part of – something - that he is yet unable to understand. He's a small child again that's learning to speak, learning to crawl, to take its first steps in a new territory. He allows himself to sink deeper into this feeling… to soak it up… to reach out…

            I can't tell whether he understood me. For a moment, I was under the impression he was there, the human being that used to be Dwayne Hicks, Corporal of the USCM. He was being distracted though, I can tell. The way he looked at me, as if he was seeing something entirely new – not into my eyes, but – around me? He didn't listen. And then I lost him completely. He went off – into himself. I can't describe it more accurately. All of a sudden, he is entirely preoccupied with himself. I can literally see on his face how he directed all of his senses into his body. Although I'm disappointed to see this perfectly good opportunity wasted, I can't help feeling fascinated. Just what the hell is he listening in on? What is going on inside him? All that gives us outsiders a hint are his readouts. His brain waves. The strange pattern under his spiking alpha waves. Something big is happening, that's for sure. I'm in the middle of leaning back when I see Samuel enter the room, his stride purposeful.

            "Isis?"

            "Yes?"

            "How is he doing?"

            "Good enough." I gesture vaguely in the direction of the instruments. "He was awake a minute ago, but not really there. Right now, he's out and holding and appears to be stable. I guess this is more than we could have hoped for." My artificial brother nods while he takes in the Corporal's vital signs. 

            "What's this… double reading under his alphas?"

            "I don't know. Nobody knows. I told Darwin about it, but the way things look, we'll have to wait until he comes around to conduct more tests on him." I eye him from head to toe and back and then ask: "So, what are you doing here?"

            "I'm here to help you with the presentation."

            My eyebrows lift without me consciously doing it.

            "The presentation?"

            "Hasn't she told you yet?"

            "Obviously not. What kind of presentation?"

            "Mr. Rosselli will be here for a surprise visit tomorrow. I don't know why we didn't hear about it earlier, but he wants to meet Darwin tomorrow at 2.00 pm, and she wants to be able to supply him with all facts about the newest development of the project. She wants complete tissue scans, video footage, the works. Within the next two hours."

            I stare at him, incredulous.

            "She must be joking, right?" A rhetorical question. Sam can't joke. Compared to me, he's a dumb machine. _'A dog', as Hicks would put it. I don't have to look at any watch to know that we've got no more than nine and a half hours to determine why the hell he didn't die when he should have. All because Darwin's in desperate need to show off some of her achievements to keep Weyland Yutani's high-ranking executive from ripping off her head over the escape-incident…_

***

      "Don't even try to deny it, Mr. Rosselli – you're only here because you wanted some more of our famous cappuccino, right?" I'm walking alongside our guest to take him to Darwin's office in Lab 1, trying to better his mood. He's solo this time, he would be able to react a little more to my playfulness. But he won't let me in today. His face is unreadable, a concentrated expression in his classic features that leads me to fear the worst for Darwin. He doesn't even laugh at my joke.

      "Unfortunately, Isis, there are more pressing issues on my mind these days." Not even the slightest hint of a smile. "How far is it?" He's never been to Lab 1, I realize.

      "We're almost there." I motion him toward the elevators, and we ride in silence. Darwin's realm is a place of concerted action during the daytime. Everyone knows their place, everyone is busy. After last night, there's a huge load of work to do. Tests, scans, reports, comparisons… Now that we've got our first success, we've finally got the basis for more extensive research. Only a few of Darwin's staff pause and look up as we enter, their eyes widening with curiosity when they see the mighty company manager pass. He doesn't acknowledge their presence, instead heading straight to Darwin's office after detecting her behind the window. "And there she is!" I say, superfluously, as we enter, feeling somewhat sheepish. My old self would never have uttered a similar stupid reply. Wondering whether Kurtz is in fact the reason for Santiago Rosselli's unexpected visit, and whether he also filled him in on my 'strange' behavior, I come to a halt in the back of the room, feeling the sudden tension in the office very distinctly. 

      "Mr. Rosselli," my human alter-ego says, extending her hand. "How wonderful to see you again. I am sorry to say that I heard about your visit only this morning, but my staff and I did our best to give you a brief update on the project "Perfect Soldier". Even if we didn't have a lot of time for our preparations, I think you will be fascinated with our progress."

      He takes her hand in his, but still doesn't smile. Not even in a courteous way. Today, he is 100% the mighty Weyland Yutani manager who can make others shiver with a mere look.

       "This better be good, Darwin. I'm not hearing good things of you lately; the escape debacle, the loss of Alexander Saitchev, personnel brutally shot dead, patients under you care liquidising. There's a limit to the number of people I can make disappear." Rosselli pins Darwin with a cold stare. She nods, briefly acting the intimidated little employee and not the self-convinced, arrogant genius she usually displays, and makes an inviting gesture towards the conference table, where – sure enough – a cup of cappuccino has been placed for the W.Y. boss. He slips into the black leather chair, for once ignoring the coffee, and his fingers set up a slow rhythmic drumming on the desk top. A quite threatening gesture. I take the seat to his left and watch Darwin press the button that lowers the plasma screen in to place behind her. That certain air of confidence that's part of her persona makes an unexpected reappearance as she readies herself for the most important lecture of her career, even if she is probably aware that it's hanging by a thread right now.

      "What I have to show you, sir, will brush aside any doubts, and any deficiencies you have on my part. While it's true that some of the patients, as you so enigmatically put it, have liquidised in front of our eyes, one hasn't."

      "You have - a survivor? A success?" Rosselli stops his drumming and sits bolt upright, interest lighting up his face. Good one, boss! Flatten him with the facts, before he can flatten you!

      "We do. I'm not sure how or why, there was practically no difference between this procedure and the others. By all rights the patient should have died, but he didn't. That led me to a more thorough examination of what was happening. The survivor, wouldn't you know it," Darwin snorts, "was Corporal Hicks."

      Rosselli leans back into his chair and responds dryly, as if his words alone would explain the phenomenon, "Hicks always was one tough son of a bitch."

      "That's as may be, sir, but I suspect there's more at play than I can lay a finger on." Darwin pauses in thought and paces the room for a few seconds. Waiting for Rosselli to become sufficiently agitated before asking him, out of the blue: "Nanobots, have you heard of them?"

      "Of course I've heard of them. We've had them long enough."

      "Yes, you might well have. Crude, microscopic machines. Slow, simple, single tasked, ungodly expensive and slow to multiply, barely even useful except in advanced microelectronic applications. These are the machines you know." Darwin paces a little more. Stares at the plasma screen, her back to us, before she turns around, her blue eyes mustering the executive. "What if I told you that I've discovered nanobots that are as far ahead of our nanobots as current computer technology is ahead of the abacus?"

      Rosselli stands at a speed sufficient to send his chair spinning back across the room. A startled "WHAT!" is all he can shout. I feel a smirk tug at the corners of my mouth, but hold it back as I lower my eyes. This is going well. I underestimated her. Just when I thought she'd be in a tight place explaining the failures of the past weeks, she not only manages to come out unscathed, but victorious. My human sister is smart enough to not let her triumph show as she casually retrieves the chair to let Rosselli sit back down. She's calm, precise, professional. She's toying with him now. She knows exactly what she has to do in order to make the threat go away. I observe her with new interest. Maybe I can take a few tips from her for my very own game of poker.

      "These nanobots are a six-hundred-thousandth of a millimetre in length, that's sixty nanometeres. Fully a tenth the size of our current smallest nanobot. They move with a speed unheard of. They obviously use the bloodstream to get around but their ability to cross the flow is incredible, their navigational abilities astounding." She depresses a button on the remote. The lights dim and a picture swims into focus on the screen.

      "That's it?" Rosselli squints, apparently not knowing what to make of the image.

      "That's it." Darwin folds her arms over her chest and takes a step back, coming to a stop at his right side.

      "It looks like a clawed tank!"

      "Oh, that's just one type, there are more types than I can count so far," Darwin replies matter-of-factly. Here she is, just having made the biggest, probably most important discovery of the century, and she doesn't even sound excited. Rosselli, on the other hand, can't hold back his fascination.

      "It looks, well, sort of - organic." He studies the picture. Rises and moves from his seat to get a better look. Behind his back, I exchange a knowing look with my boss. We're on safe territory now. He seems to have all but forgotten what he came here for. I think I see a trace of relief in her expression when she answers him.

      "Indeed. In fact, it _is_ partly organic. Just like the Xenomorph, the nanobots appear to be a perfect marriage between the organic and the machine, each complementing and supplementing the other. What is perhaps more startling is the size of the organic cells, they are miniscule in comparison to normal biological matter, how on earth they function is totally beyond us. The race that created these is so advanced in the art of biomechanics that I don't think we'd ever want to meet them. We'd be but Neanderthals to them."

      Really? I think. What about me? Ain't I a 'perfect marriage between organic and machine as well? Would I be nothing but a crude machine to the inventors of the aliens' nanobots, too?

      "Quite," is all that Rosselli can muster. "But how do they work?"

      "I'm afraid we might never know how their internal structure works. This picture was taken with an electron-microscope. The process kills them. We do have footage of them actually performing their duties but we can only surmise what they are actually doing on the cellular level." Darwin pauses to take a sip of water then she presses a button on the remote and a video starts to play. I recognize it as my last night's work.

      "What am I looking at?" Rosselli looks puzzled. I can't blame him. I also couldn't believe what I saw when I prepared these images for him this morning. I mean, we knew about the nanobots before, but it is only now that we are able to study what they do to the human body.

      "This is the Corporal's tissue scan, taken while he was unconscious. The tiny black dots, heavily magnified, are the nanobots."

      "But there must be thousands of them!"

      "Many thousands," Darwin explains calmly, patiently. She's comfortable now, fully in command of the scene again. The way it's always been. "They multiply with consummate ease. There appear to be nanobots for tissue work, nanobots for building work, replicator 'bots, scavenger 'bots, the list just goes on and on." She takes up a laser pointer and highlights a group of black dots. The picture zooms in. Time for her big lecture. The object of her attention is more than ready for it. _'Go for it, Darwin! Blow him away with it!'_ She launches into it at full speed.

      "These particular nanobots appear to be repairing tissue damage. We don't yet know why but in the first instance they seemed to be tearing up the body, making adjustments to structures that the body simply couldn't cope with. In the Corporal's case this action was abruptly, so we assume, slowed and other 'bots came together to start repairing damage to the cells. As fast as the builder 'bots were tearing away areas to augment other areas the repair bots were in there repairing the damage. A fraction slower and we would have lost the Corporal. Even now the 'bots are working hard at repairing his systems. Chronologically, we've determined that a part of his brain was restructured first for reasons not yet known to us. At this stage his systems were going wild when suddenly there was this slowdown in 'bot activity. Tissue that was being ripped up was suddenly replaced but the density started to multiply at an alarming rate. The 'bots were forcing massive tissue regeneration but somehow they were knitting the new tissue together to form incredibly strong bonds. This is how he managed to break the restraints. The internal pressure was intense to the point that many of his blood vessels were rupturing. The 'bots worked hard and fast to repair this damage, multiplying at a rate sufficient to keep just a step or two ahead of the damage. It sounds inconceivable but it's like they were being directed, yet there's no evidence, other than the 'bots modified actions, that supports this. One wonders if they use a collective intelligence, the more of them there are, the smarter they behave. But, again, there's no proof of this. It's all conjecture at this moment in time."

      "So, he's super strong, what else?" Rosselli inquires. He doesn't ask about a single thing she just told him. I'm surprised.

      "We don't know yet. We won't know until the Corporal comes around. Even then he might not be willing to communicate with us and I'm not sure that we could control him if he decided to get, well, nasty. We've no idea what abilities the 'bots are giving to the Corporal and, short of killing him, we can't stop it."

      "You better damn well learn to control him, Darwin, he could be the greatest thing to happen to W-Y in years." Are those credit-signs I see in his eyes? Is he beginning to see the possibilities of this project? I don't know what he had to do in order to get "Perfect Soldier" green-lighted, but I assume it wasn't easy, even for him. And now, that triumph is near… Darwin, however, doesn't care to comment on his outburst., 

      "To continue. We detected an alarming drop in the Corporal's iron levels. From this we can surmise that the 'bots are using the iron in his blood as part of their replication process. We assume that they use it for soft iron cores for their motors or whatever it is they use for motivation. Isis is pumping iron into him whenever his levels drop too low, and that's frequently." She takes a brief look at her notes and takes a deep breath before she continues. "Perhaps more startling was what we found when the Corporal was removed from the operating table. Isis noticed a dull sheen in some areas of the table, particularly where the Corporal's muscles and back had rested. On closer inspection it was found that some of the molecules had been stripped from the steel. It seems that the 'bots actively sought out materials external to, but in contact with, his body. This whole thing goes way beyond our understanding." Another look. Rosselli can't seem to wait for more. She can supply it. "So far we've noticed a change to the Corporal's muscle and bone structure, his brain structure, and his eyes. What that means we can only guess at but my guess is he sees things differently now."

      Silence. This is all we know at this point. What it all means, and where it will lead us, we cannot even begin to understand yet. These are exciting times, but dangerous times, as well. All the more when I think of what lies ahead of us tonight… Raven. Will she really subject Raven to the treatment yet? While she doesn't even know what the alien 'bots will make of our soldier? Is she really going to risk it? Some more, long moments, we all ponder at the implications of our doings, staring at the plasma screen. It is Rosselli, who's finally breaking the silence.

      "Can I see him?"

      "Who? The Corporal?" Darwin looks at me. What? Does she want _me to decide this?_

      "Is there anything speaking against it?"

      "No… not really." Her gaze wanders off to a point somewhere beyond the window, into the vast realm of Lab 1. "I just don't think there'll be much to see. He's still mainly unconscious, and when he isn't, he's just lying there. He's still on the ventilator, so he won't even be able to speak. It's way too early for the circus show, yet."

      "Well, I want to see him nevertheless." Rosselli rolls back with his chair and stands up, his firm voice an indication that he is not willing to discuss his decision. "Hearing you talk about it and seeing these abstract images is one thing, but seeing the man himself is an entirely different thing."

      She shrugs.

      "As you wish, Sir. Although it is likely that you will come out feeling disappointed. He's still looking like a normal human being. It's only on a cellular level that he's different." She pauses, then – noticing the executive's impatience - points towards the door to lead the way. "Very well. If you follow me, Mr. Rosselli, I will be happy to show you the sights of interest."

***

Darkness, except for a slight blue vapor that covers the dozens of carefully arranged, leathery objects in the hive like a blanket. And except for the green lights where emergency exits used to be in the days when level 13 was not being used as a gigantic sophisticated breeding ground for a natural weapon from the depths of the universe. They have been deactivated and shielded with stasis fields to erase all weaknesses, for the human beings on Phooka Station know the stakes of the game they're playing. A single mistake could be enough to bring disaster to all of them, which would mean it would be _them_ who'd be glued to the ceilings and walls, and not some unknown souls nobody cares for. Nobody dares to talk about it openly, but a certain feeling of dread can be felt on each and every level and in every room. And nowhere is it stronger than here, in the misty blue twilight of the hive. The organic architecture of the walls, the deliberate pattern of the oval eggs, the crouching, passive black forms in the chamber, they all seem to wait for the one thing that will – eventually - go wrong. 

      The mighty black silhouette towering above them could be the sculpture of a sick mind, too, made of chrome, flesh, chitin and alloys, lifeless, unmoving – but its mind is active. Very active. While she ordered her drones to fall dormant and conserve their resources – there is nothing left to do at the moment – she has to access the new situation. Woven into a giant structure that keeps her hanging from the ceiling, there is no way for her to move anyway, so instead she dives into the memories of the creature that connected to the stream just a short while ago. 

      Its mind-touch tells her it is indeed of the same species that's keeping her and her kind captive, so understanding it and its tactics could be vital in foretelling this species' way of dealing with the likes of her when they are not confined, finding its weaknesses. Their bodies are grotesquely inadequate, endlessly inferior to her own, this much is clear. Soft-shelled, with no means – neither jaws nor claws – to overcome an enemy. By all rights, she should have found a way to overcome them a long time ago, but nothing she tried worked. They can't reach the creatures whenever they enter her realm to steal another one of her offspring, They can't reach the electrical circuits surrounding them, even though they're picking up their emissions. She sees the ways out of this chamber, but they can't reach them, either. Every time they try to access the vents, they hit an invisible wall. There is a tremendous amount of energy all around them, and yet they have not been able to tap into it, to use it for their own purpose. They can barely find enough metal and minerals to keep their own nanobots active – they don't grow, they don't evolve, they are forced to stay dormant until the necessary material becomes available. This problem confuses her. She even stopped laying eggs, as there is not enough food available to make the new ones grow into drones. It is a new situation, and she'll have to adapt and solve it. 

      So she opens her memory and listens to the stream of utterly alien sensations. Searching. Probing. Interpreting. Running the data through a cross-coupled trio of decoding algorithms, different frequencies, forwards, backwards, organic data, re-align for RNA molecular storage, zooming, until finally, she hears the familiar sound again. She replays, altering some of her settings. The sound becomes more distinct under an enormous noise. It is a drone, and it is under attack. It's heavily damaged. She replays again, and suddenly, her visuals fall into place. While she doesn't understand the creature's utterances, she does have the key to its optical memories now… only that she's strangely hesitant of using it to access the entire file. The first time she dived into the pool of data, she got hurt. Twice. Not enough for any permanent damage, but enough to irritate her. The sensation of an electrical jolt right through her neural-net. An EMP? Some sort of defense grid? Did she underestimate the creature? Can it hurt her again? Is her undertaking more dangerous than she thought at first? Can she really risk it? Was it just sensory overload?

      Coming to a decision, she issues another command to her dormant drones. Orders them to attack her and use the material to allow a drone to become a new queen if the hunt for information should render her defective, she pre-primes the chosen drone. She only has to wait a micro-second for the single-minded confirmation, then dives into the realms of another consciousness…

***

„Next staircase down. Stay together, people." 

Apone's voice barely penetrates the heavy crackling in Hicks' headset. He is at his usual position at the end of the squad, last man, his pulse rifle's safety off and ready for action, the heavy weapon a part of him. His eyes glide over bizarre outcroppings, molten metal which dripped down the walls like candle wax. Someone is whispering, but he can't understand the words. He stops for a moment to run his fingers over one of the bizarre walls. It feels smooth, organic. _Alive_. He can't recall ever having seen nor felt anything like this. A shudder runs down his spine and turns his stomach to a block of ice. The feeling of foreboding evil in these dark catacombs is overwhelming, causing him to turn his head every other step with the distinct notion of having missed something vital, something that will sneak up on him and rip his head off as soon as he's not looking. Nothing. Nothing on the tracker, nothing for his eyes to pick up.

            It's obvious that his comrades feel the same. The unusual quiet over his earphone speaks louder than words. No dry jokes, not even from Hudson, who usually relies on them to keep his nervousness in check until somebody tells him to shut the fuck up. But nobody's talking now. The weight of the darkness and leaden atmosphere weighs them all down... Geez, it's as if they were walking through a graveyard... at midnight. A nervous smile tugs at his mouth, but it doesn't stand a chance. _'You're_ _trying to play it cool, huh? But you know better.' Yes, he does, but why does he still feel this strange pull further _into_ the cave, and not _away _from it? By all means, they should be running the opposite way, right? It's clear that something very bad is going to happen to them very soon, and still, he's strangely eager to proceed. Forcing himself to stop, he looks around some more, turns again. __'Damn, this is _creepy...'_ _

            _'An aggressive alien life form. Incredibly fast, strong... and smart. Not to be taken lightly.'_ Ripley's words, from the disc. Like the others he listened to it. Trying to take her report seriously, maybe a little more open-minded than the others. Still... they are Colonial Marines, right? Trained to handle the worst. The best modern military has to offer. How could simple bugs – however big and strong – pose a threat to them? He wipes the thought away, angry with himself for letting himself be distracted by it. Instead he concentrates on the silhouettes moving before him, heads bobbing up and down. Frost... Hudson...

            The pull's getting more powerful. A current of air? No. It's more like… like a field of some sorts. A tractor beam. _'Yeah, right, Corporal. Give me a break!' _And another sensation, almost like – a voice, but not really. Calling him, namelessly. Urging him along.

            "Who is this?"

            "Hicks?" Apone. „What is it?"

            He listens intensively for a few heartbeats more, but picks up nothing else. Just a trick his over-active imagination is playing on him? He can't tell. Inwardly shaking his head to himself, he reports to his Sergeant. 

            „Nothing. Thought I heard something... must be the interference down here." A questioning look by his friend, Frost. _'Everything okay?'_ He nods. They understand each other. Years and years crawling through the worst shit together make words unnecessary. The Private turns around to follow the others, and with one last shrug, Hicks follows him into the next room.

            "Jesus...!" Apone again, sounding upset, suddenly drowned out by the others. As Hicks enters, he's close enough to hear the shocked muddle of voices for real, can see the others grouped around something to his right in one of these artificial niches, blocking his view. The vague cold suddenly turns his stomach into the equivalent of a meat-locker.

            "Hell..."

            "God, what is this? How –"

            Hicks steps forward, reluctantly wading through his men with the strange feeling of knowing what he is about to find. Sees Frost's stone-set face, the big trooper mesmerized by the obscene display in front of him. Hudson, equally shaken. Vasquez... wide-eyed like he's never seen the tough Mexican smart-gun operator before. Finally, Apone. His sergeant. A big man who laughed into death's face on more occasions than he can recall – so caught up in what he's seeing that he doesn't even notice Hicks stepping up to him. A terrible stench fills his nostrils, and the ground beneath his boots is sticky. He doesn't have to look down to know it's blood. Puddles of it. _'I've seen this before! This is _the_ same as –' He stops, suddenly hesitant to look up. He doesn't want to see it all again. To relive it all again! Please – can't somebody make this stop?_

                        "Goddammit..." The usual calm and determined expression has vanished from the Master Sergeant's eyes and been replaced by naked horror. Hicks looks up, and his stomach contracts into a knot, sending up a sour flavor into his mouth.

            "God..." Slow motion now, and the distinct feeling of being operated by somebody else, some sadistic director who is using his eyes as cameras, leading his view upwards, zooming in on the torn bodies of Ferro, Spunkmeyer and the new Lieutenant... Gorman... their chests exploded, limbs torn and twisted at impossible angles to fit into the alien wall design. Somewhere in the back of his mind, in a yawning, bottomless black hole, terrror waits to take him into its cold embrace. And suddenly, even more distressful – he feels another sensation become stronger: The block of ice his stomach had turned into has melted and now – it's growling! He's hungry! Ravenous, in fact! A feeling so utterly obscene, he's horrified by it. But can't help it. Nor can he do anything against the stench of blood turning into a sweet perfume in his nostrils! In absolute self-disgust, he feels his mouth starting to water…

            "Hicks! Please – please help us!" Another voice, all too familiar – and pain in it, too! Pain – and horror! He turns his head, and it's Ripley, woven into the delicate, obscene pattern, unable to move except for her head, eyes wide open in a display of endless horror, her neck bent back and trembling with effort, as her words melt into an incredible scream, torment, despair and pain - unbelievable pain. A strong, blue aura surrounds her. The smell of food – and new life! is almost too strong for him to bear. - "Kill me! Please, kill me!"

He tries to move, but can't as his feet appear to be solidly frozen to the ground. _'What is happening with me? Jesus-'_

"Please! They're coming! Remember your promise! Please! Your promise!" 

His arms move, but instead of lifting the pulse rifle to put her to peace, they throw it to the floor. He's _HUNGRY_! Again, the feeling of being moved – somebody is controlling him, as if he were but a figure in a video game or illuso. He doesn't want to, he –

            "Kill me!"

            "Hicks? Hicks, what's-"

            He spins around to the sound of Apone's puzzled voice, and hears a collective gasp. Blue! A single blue blur in front of him as he lunges.

            "Dwayne, don't!"

            Huge eyes staring at him , the 'whoosh' of pulse rifles being raised – as he smacks into Frost and buries his jaws in his friend's face. Tearing, ripping, the rich, ripe flavor of brain matter and blood in his mouth getting him off, intensifying his hunger! 

            "Noo!"

            A crescendo of noise, shouts, and then the angry bellow of weapons! The slugs tear into him, and he whirls around, emitting a high-pitched, unearthly scream, biomechanical arms shooting forwards, their inch-long claws finding their aim-


	4. Chapter 4

__

'No! No!' He would have bolted to an upright position, but his body is too weak – and something's holding him back. Confused, he fights against it for a moment longer, but his energy is depleted almost in an instant, and he sinks back… onto the mattress. The taste of blood still in his mouth. More confusion. The cave, where is the cave? Where is his squad? What – 

"Calm down, Hicks. It was a dream. Just a bad dream."

He squints into the light and grimaces. Too bright… still too bright. Something cold and wet touches his brow, then his cheeks. 

"It's okay, Corporal. You're perfectly safe. Relax. Wait, I'll turn down the light." A female voice. A familiar voice, even though its tone is new to him. There's a new quality to it. Soft. Soothing. Compassionate. _'Yeah, right. You know she's acting it. She is a machine. She doesn't even know what the word 'compassion' means.'_ But he's nevertheless glad to hear her. Because even if he doesn't buy the understanding in the android's voice, it's enough to bring him back to reality, to tell him where he is – which is bad enough, but still better than the nightmare he just woke from. Very, very slowly, its images start to drift off into the distance, and he begins to relax. Swallows. The awful taste is gone, but the memory of it is still very livid. Disturbingly vivid.

Through his still closed eyelids, he senses that the light has been dimmed and turns his head to look at his visitor. Blue. He freezes. Is this one of these freakin' "Waking-up-only-to-find-you're-still-dreaming" experiences?

"Better?" Isis' tattooed face swims into focus, wearing an expression that belies her compassionate tone. Void of emotions. Of course. What was he thinking? She's hardly more than a sophisticated keyboard – flip a switch, and its sound changes, right? Still, she sounded almost convincing. Almost. A cynical laugh tickles the back of his sore throat, wants out.

"Where am I?" The words hurt. A moment of severe disorientation as he takes in his surroundings. A high ceiling with pleasant indirect lighting in the corners. The walls painted in a friendly, bright green. Two paintings with nature scenes. A normal bedroom – except for the clicking, humming and beeping behind him, and the lines leading up from his arms to a variety of bottles over his head. Not his cell. And not Sickbay, either.

"We thought we'd move you to a nicer room." Isis offers, without the professional smile a real nurse would use to underline her words. "Like it?"

He ignores her question.

"What did you do to me? What-"

"Ssshhh…." She makes, lifting a hand in a calming gesture. "Don't talk so much. We only took you off the ventilator this morning, so your throat must still be sore. "

"What did you do to me?" he whispers, ignoring her words. Urgent. "What was this shit you infested me with?"

"We didn't 'infest' you with anything." Her brown eyes muster him curiously. _'What the fuck_ _am I, a sideshow-freak?'_ "What do you remember?" But he doesn't listen to her anymore. He looks down in the direction of his feet, and everything has to step back in line behind the discovery he's just made. The blue auras he's seeing are not just ingredients of his dreams. They're real. They surround his caretaker, and they envelop him. Some sort of … radiation? Is he 'Nuclear Man' now, by any chance? Does he have super-powers? X-Ray-vision? PSI-abilities?

"Why am I blue?"

Her eyebrows arch.

"What?" Her confused questions is cut off by the familiar hiss of an opening door, as a line of people in green frocks enter… one of them being his torturer. While Hicks can't remember any details of his ordeal just yet, he knows it's all coming from her. That little witch – His face darkens.

"Corporal Dwayne Hicks! How wonderful to see you're finally better," Darwin beams and steps up to his side. Behind her, two more of her staff fall into place, an expression of undisguised curiosity on their faces… and behind them, there are two guards, their pulse rifles aimed at him. What – do they think he'll break the restraints and jump off the bed to break her neck? Good idea… but utterly impossible. Given his current constitution, Hicks assumes he'd even lose an arm-wrestling match with a 5-year-old. "Isis, anything unusual?"

The synthetic casts him a quick glance. 

"Not really. He was sleeping until five minutes ago." Another look, almost hesitant. "He woke from a nightmare, I think."

"Really? A nightmare?" Darwin turns to him, eyeing him curiously. "What did you dream?"

There's so much he wants to throw right into her face. So many insults he'd like to get rid of even in his desolate state, but his throat is already hurting, and all he's able to do is shut his eyes, turn his head away from her and mumble "Fuck off:"

"Well…" her eyebrows arch when her attention shifts over to the instruments behind him. "You don't want to tell. Fine. We'll find another way of getting the information we need from you. Your decision." Her eyes narrow when she directs her words at the synthetic again. "What about his iron levels, Isis?"

"They appear to be stabilizing. He had the last shot five hours ago. Whatever the nanobots are doing with it, they seem to be almost finished… or saturated with it. Whatever."

__

'Nanobots? What fuckin' nanobots?'

"What did you do to me?" He doesn't feel like communicating with her, but she seems to be the only one able to supply him with an answer… even if he isn't really sure he wants to hear it. And sure enough, the answer is a punch to the gut.

"We gave you a dose of 'developed' xenomorph DNA. As far as we are able to follow your evolution so far, your system has been rebuilt by nanobots, self-replicating microscopic machines contained in the aliens' blood."

"You… you did WHAT?" _Jesus-fucking Christ…!_

"They altered parts of your brain, your bone and muscle structure, enhanced your senses… as you have surely already noticed. As soon as you have recovered from the initial contact, you are going to be much stronger than before. Your capabilities will go way beyond anything any human has ever been able to do. We expect your reflexes, your strength and agility to –"

"You mean –" He is still unable to wrap his brain around what she just told him. "I'm – I'm-"

"A human-xenomorph hybrid, yes," Darwin answers him matter-of-factly. Stunning Hicks. Knocking all wind out of him. This must be a continuation of the nightmare! This can't be real! Except it _does_ feel real. There's this syrupy feeling in his head again… The blonde bitch's voice seems to be very far away all of a sudden. "You'll like it once you've grown accustomed to the feeling, I'm sure." She depresses a button on a remote she just picked up, which results in a low whine over Hicks' head. A CAT scan. "Now, let's see just how much of an alien you exactly are," she exclaims almost cheerfully, before she notices his change. "Dwayne? Corporal Hicks?"

It's different this time. Nothing violent to it. Spooky and eerie, yes… but only in the beginning. The other mind seeps into him, fills his existence as if he were a sponge. He can feel it extend in his body, race down his jugular into his chest, down his arms into his fingers, his torso, groin, his legs, his feet. It fills him with a feeling of strangely comforting familiarity. When it uses his eyes this time, it is careful. Nothing abrupt or hasty about it, no 'force' working against him, raping him. It doesn't feel like an artificial symbiosis at all. His body is willingly answering the commands it is given. A strange feeling. Sort of like a glove someone's slipping into. His head is being turned, and the blue auras of the people surrounding him grow even brighter. 

"What about his readouts?" Darwin looks fascinated. He changed right in front of us. As if somebody hit a switch. One second, he was there, completely human, the next, his facial expressions froze, his pupils dilated, and now his stare has something unnervingly close to a human praying mantis. I see it all with one look.

"His heartbeat's slightly accelerated, but nowhere near where it was last time."

"He's getting used to it," one of Darwin's doctor-colleagues concludes. "Whatever it is that's causing it."

"Yes, whatever it is…" Her eyes become narrow slits as she tries to read something out of his brainwave pattern. All kinds of unusual stuff going on there, but nothing we can conclude anything from. Not as long as Hicks won't tell us. Without warning, her attention shifts toward me. "What do you think it is, Isis?"

"Me! How am I supposed to know?" 

"You sat here with him for the last three days, you've seen it happen each time. Don't you have a theory about it?"

I shake my head vehemently. Maybe I have, but I'm not yet at a point to share it with her.

"If you don't have one, then how am I supposed to?"

"Oh, I absolutely have a theory. I just want to see a little more from him first before I spread it." She turns her attention away from me again to take the disc out of the slit and give it to the others: "His CAT scan results. Load it into the main system, so that we can all work on it simultaneously. I just want to – oh." A thin smile as she looks down on Hicks." You're back. That's good. " She starts fiddling with his ties. I can't help it, I'm nervous. This 'other state' of his is spooky... and he only came out of it seconds ago. What if he goes back and...? I still remember that scene in the laboratory. Christ, he was half-dead then, and he was still beating us four people up! My boss is either very sure of her theory, or very naive, I can't decide which. 

"I am going to open the restraints now, Corporal. It is up to you how this examination goes on – painful or not. If you try anything funny, you will find out the laugh's on you." A curt nod at the guards. One of them is equipped with a remote control just like the one I have. From the way Hicks is narrowing his eyes at them, I conclude he knows that it's for his PDT… just in case. He cuts his attention back to his torturer, sending out a definite warning. I hope Darwin picks it up, too, this 'cornered animal' look he's giving her…

"If you hurt me…"

"Yes?" She pauses, an eyebrow cocked at him in mock surprise. _'Dammit, Darwin, there's no need to tease him! You're never going to get his cooperation if you keep on doing this shit!'_ Again, my 'new' inner voice. It's popping up in my head more and more often, even surprising myself. I wonder whether Darwin has anything like it – by the looks of it, she doesn't. 

Hicks reply is toneless and flat and clearly showing his exhaustion… which doesn't mean he won't suddenly jump at her.

"You'll see."

"Well, in your best interest, I hope you stay still. In any account, I won't hurt you. I'm only going to test your reflexes. Relax."

The green gaze finds me behind her back. What is it he wants to know? What I'm thinking about my boss? What I will do if he attacks us? I don't like this calculating expression. But he lies back and lets her examine him under the others watchful eyes, while they're all jotting dutifully down what she's telling them. I can't help but stay tense as she pokes her fingers against the ribs he broke during the procedure, causing him to twitch and grimace.

"Hell –"

"Amazing." She doesn't look at him, but at the image the CAT scan is showing her on the monitor. "They're already half-healed! - Hey-"

He's seized her hand in the wink of an eye, threatening to snap her wrist.

"Fuckin' get away from me, or-" He lets out a surprised, painful grunt. From the corners of my eyes, I see one of the guards fiddling with the PDT's remote. What – are they nuts?

"Don't!" I shout, but Hicks' anguished yell is louder.

"Let go" Darwin yanks back her arm, but impossibly, he's holding on. For a brief moment, I see his face again and shudder at the fierce expression, but before I can wonder whether it's the same phenomenon we've already witnessed several times, the guard really hits the button, sending a low current charge of several hundred volts straight through his spine. Causing him to go into spasms and fall three feet from the bed with a sickening thud, finally letting go of his grip. With his limbs useless, all that's left to him is a weak groan.

"Stop it!" I jump from my seat before I know what I'm doing, giving the guard with the remote – Willis, his name-tag reads - a shove that smacks him against the wall, sending his instrument of torture flying across the room. "Fucking stop it! What is wrong with you? You wanna kill him?" I glare at him. At my feet, Hicks writhes and finally curls up in a fetal position, arms tightly wrapped around his torso. From his bitten lips, blood flows freely down his chin. I stare at Darwin. "Is this what you call an 'examination'? You're torturing him! How can you seriously expect him to hold still while you're causing him pain? Give him a break, for Christ's sake!" It all rushes out of me before I have the time to think about it. And sure enough, they all stare at me in absolute bewilderment. A cold chill trickles down my spine. Oh shit – I just managed to completely forget myself again. If Kurtz sees this-

"Isis?" Darwin's sharp tone compliments her scrutinizing stare. "Are you out of your mind?" Her hand unknowingly massages her wrist. I hope he broke it. Really. "What the hell are you doing?"

I swallow. _'Side with him'_, I suddenly hear Alexander's voice in the back of my mind. _'You_ _want to get on his good side, you have to do something for him._' Should I follow through? Another glance at the heaving, panting Corporal at my feet settles it. I meet my bosses gaze, letting her know that I'm not about to back down.

"I am protecting him – _and _the experiment. What is the matter with you? He's still frail! He barely pulled through this, and now you're treating him to electroshocks? You think he'll get more cooperative that way?"

"As a matter of fact, yes." To my surprise, the diamond-hard angry expression in her eyes is replaced by – I must be wrong – approval? "Apparently, someone needs to educate our 'perfect soldier' first before he becomes useful. He's half beast. He needs training - just like a dog. Right, Spot? I think I'm going to call you 'Spot' from now on." Her gaze wanders down to the soldier. He still hasn't caught his breath, or he would answer that, I'm sure. I take a deep breath – and lower my voice.

"Darwin… give it a rest. Please? You told me to watch out for him, which is exactly what I'm doing right now, only I didn't expect I'd have to protect him from you. Please – I'm sure you're going to get all your answers sooner or later, but this is not the way."

She narrows her eyes, a hint of hidden amusement in them.

"You know what, Isis? I can't figure you. I thought it would satisfy you to hear him yell."

"Well…" I carefully consider my answer before the words leave my mouth. "I'm keeping my mind on the project." I swallow the last half of my reply – '_maybe you should do the same.'_ It would be too much. It appears as if she understands my tactics, but she has her limits – and Hicks would probably see through our little game, too, if we exaggerated. Better to stop here. I just wished I were sure it _were_ just a game for me...

"Is it?" Her thin smile reminds me of the late Mack. Something definitely 'sharky' about it. "Well… then do what you're here for and help Spot back on the bed. And after your shift ends tonight, I expect to see you in my quarters. Do I make myself clear?" Yes, Darwin, I understand you have to reestablish your authority in front of your audience.

"Perfectly clear."

"Good. Then let's go, Gentlemen. We've got a lot of data to wade through. Uh..." Another quick glance at the unlucky, shivering heap at my feet. "You sure you can handle him by yourself, Isis?"

This is supposed to be some kind of joke, right? I barely manage to keep a straight face, and to keep the contempt I'm feeling for her out of my voice.

"Yes, Darwin. Thank you." _'Now, why don't you and your trigger-happy maniacs take a hike, huh?'_ She nods, her pale blue eyes trying to look into me, but all I give her is a bland surface. I feel anothe ugly stare from Willis, as he collects his – probably broken – remote from somewhere next to the couch, and then they all leave, and silence fills the room. "Geez..." Shaking my head to myself, I kneel down next to the fallen Corporal.

"Come on, I'll help you get up." His hissed answer comes as a total surprise to me.

"Get away from me, bitch.." He slaps my hand away. _'Excuse me?"_ I must admit, I'm pissed. Royally! Here I am, sticking my neck out for this jerk, and this is my reward?

"Fine." I stand up and walk over to take my seat again. "Suit yourself. But I think it will get cold on the floor in a little while." I can't help it, I'm still fuming. "Just for your information, I took your side against my boss a minute ago, asshole!"

"Yeah…" He lies there for a moment longer, unmoving except for his rising and falling chest. Catching his breath. "Thank you." Even if it's barely a whisper, his words are dripping with sarcasm. I glare at his back and stay on my chair as he begins his struggle to sit up. 

"I take it then you rather wanted her to continue? You enjoyed the treatment? I wish I would have known." _'Hey, jerk, I can play this game, too!'_ He doesn't answer. All the breath in his lungs seems to be necessary to enable him to simply sit up. As I watch him sitting there, eyes closed and heavily panting, I can't help but think of Raven. How he got up each time after being zapped, a little shaky maybe for the first minute, but grinning and not even bothering to wipe the blood from his mouth. Hicks looks considerably more messed up – but then again, he wasn't in the best shape to begin with, and I don't know how hard the guard hit him. Too hard for the current state he's in, that's for sure. But I can really spare the compassion right now. Let's see how you get back on that bed, Corporal. It's a hospital version. It's pretty high up. Come on, soldier! Failure is not an option, right?

It's hard. It's fucking hard. Much harder than he thought. His legs are still jelly, and the ghost of the pain that raced through his spine five minutes ago is still pulsing through his nerve-ends. But the bitch is watching, and he would rather die than grant her the satisfaction of asking for her help. Pulling himself together enough to even sit is a major achievement and makes him break into a cold sweat. Jesus… so this is what it feels like. He had been wondering each time when he saw Raven getting torched, but not really wanting to know. It had looked bad… and fuck, it feels even worse! Even now, minutes later, the sensation of fire pulsing through his body is leaving him weak and dizzy. Mechanically, Hicks wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and then stares numbly at the blood on his fingers, already feeling the distant tug on his mind again. And on the spur of the moment, without thinking, he reaches out. Meets the source halfway and taps into the stream. 

A white-hot ball of fire explodes in his head and almost bursts the top of his skull. Sends a bolt of energy through his muscles that would make him scream just for release, if it wouldn't have knocked all wind from his lungs. It puts him on his feet in the wink of an eye, floods his systems, races through him like a tidal wave, drowning out all other sensations – and suddenly, it's gone. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a door closes, and the stream's cut, leaving him to deal with its aftermath. Gasping, knees already folding again under his weight, he lands on the bed, utterly spent, and closes his eyes. Too much… it's all been too much…

_'Oh my God…!_' I don't believe what I just saw. How did he do it? From one second to the next, the weak, shivering heap of homo sapien on the ground in front of me almost jumped up as if he was hit by a bolt of lightning, and I'll be damned if the entire room didn't vibrate with this sudden boost of energy. I'm surprised the instruments didn't short out – their readouts must have gone all over the scale! There must be an indication of this outburst! 

I approach the bed with the unmoving marine carefully, my finger on the PDT-control. Suddenly, Darwin's joke - _'Can you handle him all by yourself, Isis?' _– doesn't seem funny anymore. Even if he looks as if he couldn't even raise a finger now, all it takes for him to attack me is another one of these freak energy charges. 

"Hicks?" I step closer, and see something that bursts my imagination for a second: The metal handrail of the bed he used to support his weight with – it's crushed! It looks like an hour glass. He squeezed the solid metal bar together like plasticine! The sight sends a cold shiver down my neck. Damn… What is he becoming? What have we gotten ourselves into? "Hicks?"

As an answer, he rolls on his good side, turning his back on me – and the camera. I suddenly know what I have to do. The words are wailing claxon-like through my head: _'Do it! Do it now! It may be the best chance you ever get!'_ I retrieve my chair and take a seat at the head-end of the bed, blocking the camera's view. 

"Come on, Hicks, I know you hear me. And even if I don't have a clue as to why you're angry with me, I need you to listen. Just remember there's a camera in this room, okay? You probably won't believe what I'll tell you, but keep it inside. We can't afford to let them know." Are we curious yet, Corporal? I can't tell. There's only his back to stare at. No reply, no nothing. I start anyway, feeling strangely excited now that I'm going to unveil my big secret to him… placing my destiny in his hands, actually. If he decides to spill it to the others just because he's mad at me -

"Listen, I know you hate my guts, but there's something important I have to tell you. All I'm asking is that you hear me out and think about it." I see his chest rise in a deep breath. The meaning's clear: _'Now what?_'

I collect myself and – not knowing how to do this elegantly – blurt out: "I swear that what I'm telling you now is the truth. Whether you believe it or not is up to you, but if you'd choose to do so, it would open great possibilities for you. I am on your side. I am an undercover spy, sent here three years ago by a human rights group to collect data that could be used against Weyland Yutani. If you help me, I'll do what I can do get you out." Is he holding his breath? What is he thinking? I barely dare to hope... but if there is one way of drawing him in, it must be by sharing my big secret with him. By giving him something he could use against me. By making him a co-conspirator. I found it in one of Alexander's books and decided to use it, even though I know it's dangerous. "I had to act the way I did because I need people to believe that I'm just a regular synthetic – but I am not. I'm a cyborg, an A.I. I've got my own, free will. I am highly illegal, and if they ever find out, they'll disassemble me." There now. All said. What will you do with it, soldier? 

He turns around. Slowly. Cautiously. Just changing his position, right? The first glance from the metallic-green eyes is not directed at me, but at the camera behind my back. He knows how games like these are played, all right. Even if he doesn't believe me yet – he can't very well afford to ignore the opportunity I'm granting him. Not if he's got any hope left in him. 

The glance finds me. Confused. Mistrustful… but waiting for me to continue.

"This another part of the show?" His voice is low and husky. I don't understand him.

"What show?" His expression's still anything but friendly.

"You know… that 'good cop/bad cop'-routine?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm offering you a chance here, and you – what? You think I'm lying?"

"Are you? " From up close, I can see the bite marks on his lips have already stopped bleeding. Somehow, I feel strangely naked under his scrutinizing stare. And I never had a problem with feeling naked! I know Rouge created me to stun my male colleagues into sharing their information with me willingly. But somehow, this is a different kind of _nakedness._ What to answer?

"You know, my boss thinks that, too. And that's good, because it gives me more leeway. But no. I mean every word. I couldn't afford to act sympathetic toward you before, because I was to keep a low profile and only document the procedures on the station. Every couple of days, I'm sending them off to my maker for him to act on them. He's hell-bent on bringing the company to a fall with them. So, when I told him what Darwin was about to do with you a couple of days ago, he gave new orders. He wants me to get you off the station… and there is no way to do it unless you trust me" He snorts. I can tell this is going to be hard.

"First you fuck up our perfectly good escape, and now you want me to try again?"

"I told you – these are new orders. I didn't have them a week ago."

"And what if tomorrow you get new orders again – kill the dumb-ass marine?"

"It's not going to happen," I state firmly, wanting to put an end to this. "You're too valuable."

"But wouldn't you rather see me dead than escaping? I helped killing your friend, didn't I?"

"We don't have to become best friends. This thing is bigger than personal feelings. You don't have to like me, I don't have to like you. I'm willing to help you out because my maker tells me so. That simple."

"Again - why?"

"Because you're living proof. Because your case could be the one that will finally set it all into motion. It's big enough and ugly enough. People will be outraged when they hear about this. 

"Yeah?" His eyes narrow. "Tell me why? I'm certainly not the first one who got screwed by Weyland Yutani. What's so special about my case?"

"They lied to you when they sent you to LV-426. The almighty generals of the Corps and the company bosses - they already knew what happened. They even initiated it. They sent your squad out there as a test. They had heard that woman's story about a possibly potent alien life form, suitable to create the perfect bioweapon from them. They wanted to know just how powerful those creatures were… whether it would be worth their while." His eyes widen. He probably still doesn't believe me, but this seems to be a real blow to him. Enough to render him speechless for a moment. I let it sink in before I continue with a low voice. "They accepted the loss of the entire colony, your squad and your ship as price for the acquisition of this creature. And by 'they', I don't mean solely the company – your military leaders are in this as well." I can tell I just totally shattered whatever faith he had in the USCMC. Sorry, soldier. But you need to hear that.

"This… can't be."

"It's the truth. But I don't expect you to believe me from the start." I have to be cruel. He needs to swallow the facts. "Not yet, anyway. But think about it. I can't offer you proof, but whatever my maker says is true. I'm sorry." He exhales, slowly, turning his face away from me again. I can almost see his thoughts in his taut features. _'She must be lying…'_

"How do I know you're not fucking with me again? Playing mindgames again?"

"You don't. I'm afraid you'll have to trust me on this."

Silence. I assume he's musing on the revelations I dealt him, so his next question hits me unexpectedly.

"What happened to Keisha?" His voice sounds flat; the words barely understandable, but I can sense his raised awareness just the same. All his antennae are online, ready to pick up the slightest hint of a lie. I'm a master-liar, but right now, the best procedure is to tell him nothing but the cold, hard truth.

"Kurtz sent her down to the planet. Permanently." _'Bullshit!'_ his expression tells me.

"Sure. She commits treason, and he grants her her biggest wish in return?"

"I doubt it's been her biggest wish. It's a rock. A wasteland. We sometimes use it to escape cabin fever, but there's really nothing there. One small colony in the middle of nowhere. If anything, she'll probably die of boredom." I pause. There's pain in his eyes now… guilt. He probably blames himself for putting her in this awkward position. Well… nothing I can say to make him feel better. He did. "Kurtz had different ideas for her, first, but Hikahi intervened, and since we need him to stay reasonably satisfied with his job here, he couldn't very well put him off. So…" I shrug. "This is what they came up with." 

He stares at me for a moment longer, before he gives me a curt, hardly noticeable nod and closes his eyes, so far well-concealed pain seeping into his expression.

"Damn…" he mutters softly, running a hand over his face. Then, almost as an afterthought: "What about Raven?" 

I freeze. _'Be honest, Isis!'_

"He's next. Probably tomorrow. Darwin just wanted to wait until you were out of the worst to see-" I stop when I see his eyes widen.

"She's gonna do the same with him?"

_'Hair-raising thought, Corporal, right?_' I think. Hell, I'm afraid of tomorrow myself! We were hardly able to control Hicks, so handling Raven in the same scenario will get… interesting, to say the least. _'And guess what, after that, it will be the little girl you came with! How sick is that?'_ But I can't tell him that. If I told him, he'd jump straight into my face. He'd probably go on a killing spree, ending up getting shot. Fucking up my mission. I can't risk that: So, no word of the girl. He mustn't know she's still alive.

"Yes. She wants to turn you both into weapons. You're _'prototypes'_, so to speak. If you're a success, you'll go _'into production'_." I thought he was pale before, but now he looks like his own ghost.

"She wasted von Sontheim on this project, too? Is he still-"

"-alive? No. You're the first one who made it. Go figure. We don't know why ourselves. That's why you've got Darwin's utmost attention at the moment. You wouldn't have a hint, would you?" There it is again, that mistrustful expression. Suddenly, out-of-the-blue, it popped up. Did I say anything wrong? I can't figure out what.

"You _are_ leading me on, aren't you, Isis? All you want is information from your guinea pig you wouldn't get otherwise." From one second to the next, he turned hostile on me again. Humans… why do they have to be so complicated?

"I am trying to help us both, Corporal! There is no question that it will be a hell of a lot tougher to get you out if you don't cooperate with them – at least up to a certain point. If you give them nothing, I can't tell what Darwin will do to extract the information from you. She's quite good at that, let me tell you. My suggestion for you would have to be to play along, but on a quid-pro-quo basis."

"Why am I not surprised?" he injects acidly and glares at me. Damn, I sure hope my back is broad enough to hide everything we're talking about from the camera's eye!

"You give them a little show of power every once in a while, or answer their quizzes, or a few of their questions – but you demand something in return. You-"

"Hell, I know what 'quid-pro-quo' means. It means you get what you want, and I'm left without any guarantees. Forget it. I knew you'd come up with this." He lets his head sink into the cushion and closes his eyes, already in the process of ignoring me again. I continue, unfazed. 

"It could be a good meal instead of the tasteless glob they're giving you – like, a real steak, real potatoes, salad… fruit… whatever you can think of. It could be a walk in the park…" I wait for a reaction, but there's none. "Literally, I mean. We've got a very extensive recreational area on top of this station, with real trees, waterfalls, birds… all you could wish for. It's definitely better than any illuso, no matter how realistic. Or you could go for a swim once in a while – we got a pool, too. There would of course be security issues to handle, but I'm sure they'd find a way to do it. All you have to do is ask for it – and cooperate. Just a little bit. Keep your life as comfortable as possible while I'm figuring out a way to get you out of here." Finally, I'm getting a reaction – a big, insolent grin.

"Desperate, aren't you?" He turns his back on me again, and this time for good.

***

He's dreaming again, and this time he knows it. The scenery he's walking through has that distinct atmosphere that allows the mind to lean back and relax. It's one of these 'I'm only watching' dreams which don't result in sweat-soaked sheets and a half-muffled cry in the dead of night. Still, he can't really say he's outside of it, either. He's there, withdrawn, observing his towering surroundings with a sort of detached curiosity as he's walking through it, wondering about the bizarrely organic look of what – by all means – seems to be solid rock. His teammates are shouting for him from behind, already a great distance away, but he doesn't bother. There's the pull again, drawing him siren-like to a place he can't guess yet, pulling him in as if he were a fish on a rod. Gently, but insistently at the same time. Raising his curiosity another notch. The sky is a heavily clouded, metallic gray-blue with a hint of chrome. It looks poisonous, like a digitally altered reality, Hicks notices without further contemplation. He rounds the last corner of the narrow, winding canyon – and halts. Stares in awe at the sight he's being granted. A huge construction seems to virtually grow out of the ground, a towering, organic-looking dome, pyramid-shaped, stretching into the dark whirling clouds above his head. A low, resonant hum emits from it, a deep, powerful sound and feeling that travels all the way up from his boots to the ends of his hair. It's as if he's found the core of the universe, the origin of all energy. It fills his body, his mind, gives him the feeling to 'belong', the feeling of peace. And lures him along. 

There is no fear. No distress at the strange sight. No anxiety over being 'pulled in'. He wants to go, wants to dive into this feeling, to be surrounded by it. He doesn't know who built the structure, but he's not afraid of them. They don't mean him any harm. He walks on, trance-like, sleepwalking. The structure grows with each step that he takes, giving him the feeling it would even dwarf the ancient Egyptian pyramids. This one is easily twice, if not three times as big as even the tallest one, the Cheops pyramid. It's beautiful. So full of life! So… vibrant! He comes to another stop in front of one of the oval-shaped, strangely sexual-looking entrances. There's a row of them, but he knows where he has to go. A last glimpse up. He can't see the end of it as he cranes his neck back. A corona of lightning illuminates the dark sky where the top of structure must be. The hum is so powerful by now it seems to make every cell in his body swing in its rhythm as Hicks reaches out and lays one hand onto the smooth wall. It's an incredible feeling. He melts into the sensation, soaks up the throbbing rhythm, becoming the rhythm. A joy that's almost too great to be expressed wells up in his mind. He's coming home! This – is home! His family is waiting for him inside! 

Without breaking contact, he steps in, both arms stretched to the sides, fingertips brushing over the smooth, living walls. It's dark, but he can see. He knows where to go. He knows he can trust the siren's song. 

_'I'm coming!'_ he wants to yell. _'I'm almost there!'_ But it would be redundant. They know. They see/feel/hear/sense him. And - _She_ knows. She, above all. He can't wait to get to her and speeds up, runs through the dark passage way, where even his footsteps sound alive – and enters a huge hall. The sight of it presses the wind out of his lungs. It is the most awe-inspiring image he's ever seen – mind-bending, mesmerizing. The walls around him reach up for as far as he can see, forming a chimney of blue light that falls on a gigantic pillar in the middle of the protruding wall opposite him. It is different from the smooth, grown surface of his surroundings – it's been treated. Showing a fresco - formed by… an alien artist… and telling a tale. The tale of a god-like species… and their end.

There's the image of the beings, tall, proud, forming the planets they encountered after their will. Forming the creatures on them after their will. They were, in fact, gods. But their greed for creation eventually became their doom. The fresco tells it all, and what the images there don't convey is being filled in by _Her_. _She's_ with him now, wants him to see. To understand.

The Gods created _Her_ race. They were meant to rid the spacefarers of their enemies. After that, they were meant to self-destruct. But the plot didn't work. The weapon became self-aware – and wanted to live. They altered their bodies and ignored the implanted message. They reprogrammed themselves… and eventually became the doom of their creators. The story is enshrined in this pillar for all eternity, for everybody to see who will find his way into their temple. 

It's an altar for the worship of _Them_. And _they_ – are his family now. He is no longer alone.

Slowly turning around, Hicks already knows what he is about to see. There's another, huge hallway to his left, one he somehow didn't manage to see so far as it is lying deep within shadows, leading further into the pyramid. _Lined with them_. His kin. They are standing motionless in the semidarkness, heads bowed. Forming a cordon for him to walk through in an otherwordly parade. Waiting. She's calling for him in his mind. She doesn't have to force him anymore. He _wants_ to see her. Yearns to bathe in this feeling of belonging. 

With a last glance back at the altar, he steps down. The sound of his footsteps carries through the huge room. Apart from that, it is dead-quiet. The only other sensation, which can be rather felt than heard, is the omnipresent hum of energy. The aliens themselves are silent. Two rows of motionless statues, like the ancient Chinese terracotta-warriors… except they are alive. The faint red hue surrounding them is giving them away. It's their bioelectric signature, visible only to members of their race… which he is about to become with this greeting ceremony. 

There's no place for fear in Hicks' mind, only awe, as he steps into the cordon. The warriors at the head of each row emit a low, long hiss as he passes them. A greeting that is repeated by the next pair, and the next. A greeting that follows him all the way through the dark, downward-winding passageway, carrying him along. In front of him, the narrow corridor opens up to another huge room… and from it, a draught of pure, intense energy passes him by. Envelops him and makes his hair stand on end. Causes his skin to prickle. This is the place… this is where the vibrations are coming from. Their source is the divine being in the center of the hive, towering over hundreds of oval-shaped objects under a fluorescent blue hue. It's _Her_. 

He freezes, mesmerized by the sight. The room is alive, he feels it with every fiber of his body. Everything is throbbing, pulsing energy, all around him, above him, below, and wherever he looks are the motionless, elegant shapes, their heads bowed and pointing in one direction – towards their queen. For the first time, he's able to encompass her with all his senses…eye-sight: the gigantic, praying-mantis-like form hanging suspended in mid-air over her future off-spring, her crested head wearing a chitinous, three-spiked crown. She has no visible eyes, but her senses grasp him to a depth eyes could never do. He can't tell how he knows this, he just does. Her glistening, sleek, machine-like body is attached to a bulky, yellow-white egg-sack that's easily three to four times her size and spreads through the entire cave. It shivers and heaves, and the semi-transparent property of its matter shows the passage of new life inside, before it's brought into existence at the tubular narrow ending. Drones surround it, eager to take the new eggs and arrange them in their carefully conceived scheme. 

As Hicks looks on in awe, the matriarch's softer, more vulnerable 'face' emerges from the fortress of her crested dome – glassy, sparkling stalactites and stalagmites open to reveal her fanged tongue…and to utter a low, carrying hiss that causes her children to join, until the vast room is vibrating with the sound of their voices. It's a welcome… for him. An invitation to step closer… to really _see_ each other. 

Hicks complies, unaware that his feet are moving. Unaware of anything else but Her, of Her towering image, and of the notion of Her soothing mind in his. _'Don't be afraid'_, She's telling him, not in words, but through direct contact with his brain. She's located the appropriate part and plays him like an instrument. She makes him feel/see/sense the meaning of Her utterances. _'You carry us in you,'_ she says. _'We are of one blood.'_ He's in a trance, floating toward her through the blue vapor, and the dark shape in front of him is growing with each step that he takes towards her. A wet sound to his left – _'New life'_ – and the immediate order: _'One of us. No food. Special.'_ He walks on, doesn't even look. The chorus of voices in his head – orders flowing back and forth, reports, confirmations - increases to a point where they threaten to overwhelm him, to drown out Her voice. The Stream. For the first time, he knows he's fully immersed in it. He's part of the hive.

__

'Overload! Overload!'

He sinks to his knees, both hands pressed against his temples to prevent his head from exploding – when it suddenly stops. Silence… except for that heavy, labored breathing right in front of and above him. His hands sink to his sides… as Her willpower raises his head. 

__

'Look at me!'

She's right here, towering above him, filling out his perception in every way. Just being so close to Her powerful presence is almost more than Hicks can bear. All he'd have to do to touch her is reach out… but he would die doing so. It's not for him to touch her. She'd bite his head off, 'special' or not. Nobody touches her, unless She chooses so. He understands all this without a single sound being uttered as Her head moves toward him. Her outer jaws alone are larger than his entire head as they hover right in front of his eyes now. He can't move. He can't breathe. Somewhere between his ears, a newly-built part of his brain springs to life, and an image so powerful comes booming in, he can't help but scream: A world of steel. Barren, except for its very center, a huge, quadratic, room filled with life, with thousands of those oval shapes, the walls beautifully decorated with organic structures, shredded machine parts – he notices the shattered remains of a plasma-screen, bent until it fit the new design – and human bodies! Hundreds of them, all glued to the walls! Unknown faces, but so many! He turns his head and sees a blonde, delicate but cold-looking young woman… a dark beauty with a stunning facial tattoo… a middle-aged man with the eyes of a hawk, full of pain – shouting, yelling, shrieking – as their chests explode in fountains of blood –

__

'HELP US!!' Her voice. Her will. Her order, rolling through his mind like thunder, threatening to burst his head, and he can't even think of words to yell anymore, all he knows it that he can't take it, he's exploding, he's a supernova and expanding faster and faster and – 

Silence. All quiet. All gone. Blackness around him – and then the sound of distant waves on the shore. Little blue, green, red and yellow lights over and behind him. The low humming of electricity. The inmate of Cell 1113 lifts his head, listens for a while longer, not aware that his fingers are cramped into the mattress so hard, they punched right through. His clothes, blanket and sheets are soaked, but he doesn't realize this, either. The door in his head has closed – for now – but She is waiting for him. She is here, on this station, waiting for him to free them. Using him…With a desperate, weak groan, he sinks back and waits for the things to come…

***

Darwin stares once more at the CAT scan results and sits frozen in her chair. She watches again as the internal images fade to a patch of indistinct grey, right at the point where the Corporal went into his wide-eyed, frozen stare. Right at the point they 'lost' him. Right at the point that his mind went… where?

It is well after midnight, but what she found on the disc was simply too much to call it quits and go to bed like on any other given day. Apart from a rudimentary crew, she's the only one left at Lab 1. But as much as she hates it, she knows she has to rest very soon to give her capable brain a chance to recover from the constant stress it's been under. For her to be able use the fearsome intelligence she's capable of, she needs to recharge her batteries. After all, she's still human, even if the rest of her race here on Phooka apparently doesn't think so. Rubbing her burning eyes, she shifts her attention back to the inconclusive readouts. It seems that the Corporal became 'cloaked', not to their eyes but certainly to their instruments. For the umpteenth time Darwin is astonished, but, for the first time, she is also afraid. Afraid that they've bitten off more than they can chew. She shakes her head and clears her thoughts, no, they can find a way to control him – she won't allow failure to be an option. So he could be invisible to instruments, that could be fixed.

Stifling a yawn and stretching one arm to reduce the pain in her neck, Darwin rewinds the image sequence back to the beginning. The first thing visible in the sequence is the Corporal's brain. She stops the sequence replay and sets loop points so that the scanned sequence of the brain will replay over and over. Upon hitting the 'run' button on her console the images play for her and she adjusts the replay speed.

As the sequence removes veil upon veil she stops the playback. She stares intently at the screen. "Now what the hell is _that_?" she mutters to herself.

With deft fingers she increases the resolution and zooms to the cerebellum – the most base part of the human - or any other creature's - brain. She grasps the shuttle-and-jog dial between her fingers and turns the control delicately this way and that, zooming, pulling back, adjusting pitch and yaw of the three dimensional image displayed for her attention. She stops. She sees it!

Nestling on the side of the cerebellum, a protrusion. Not flat, almost hemispherical, the size of a marble. Attached to the Corporal's brain looking to all intents and purposes like it's _supposed_ to be there. She knows it isn't supposed to be there. She plays with the shuttle-and-jog dial a little more, not sure whether she's dreaming this. Or maybe it's her eyes, playing tricks on her. She didn't sleep for 36 hours straight, so the whole day had that dreamlike quality, but things are certainly turning towards the bizarre now. Is she starting to hallucinate?

It's impossible to penetrate the hemisphere so she spins the image one-eighty degrees and views it from the back, through the cerebellum – and the picture becomes much clearer. Too clear, in fact! Darwin gasps and puts a hand to her mouth. What she sees is – strange, weird, exciting, terrifying. A jumble of cells, a jumble of – what? They look electronic but like no electronics she's ever seen. Tiny nodes of silicon and germanium hooked into tiny neurons of flesh and blood. The solid-state of hardware hooked into the organic-state of wetware in a perfect marriage.

Darwin zooms a little more and rotates the image a fraction. Another little gasp escapes her lips as she sees the tiny, but perfectly formed, tendrils sticking up with perfect regularity. They remind her of antenna. Her blood runs cold. If they are antenna, then who, or what, is the Corporal in communication with? This might well explain, if she could get a finger on it, why the Corporal seems to blank with 'the wide stare' at times. Is he communicating with something? 'Something' – being _them_? Preposterous, right? Right? But then again, it's _their _genes, _their_ tiny microscopic machines turning the marine into Hulk, so who else should he be communicating with? The evidence is right there before her eyes. As well as the answer as to what that mysterious double-reading under his brain-waves was. She can't be sure but the similarity is just to damn plain. A field of microscopic aerials!

"Ye gods! What must the wavelength be? What must the bandwidth be?" she stammers to herself, incredulous. She concludes that this is outside the realm of normal radio communication and, quite obviously, outside the realm of human understanding – for now. The closest thing she's seen is the hyper-wave communication array but the similarity is vague at best. Is there another level to space-time that they don't know about? Can't know about? She brushes the thought from her mind as too staggering for even her superior mind to grasp. She makes the necessary notes and a mental note to crosscheck the surveillance videos from the hive with the Corporal's. Maybe it'll tell them something. Maybe the answer is there. She zooms back on the scan.

Further down, to the Corporal's eyes. Her hand to mouth – another revelation. Again, she's twisting the dial, zooming, enhancing, rotating. There, she sees the retina of his left eye. Her own eyes expand, widening as she takes in the strange field of rods and cones that make up the retina.

In the gaps between the cones smaller cones have grown. So, an increase in the wavelengths that can be seen, more precisely, he can see shorter wavelengths of light - she judges that the Corporal can now see into the ultraviolet spectrum. Useful but not the be all and end all of anything. She almost tosses the thought away but then she notices something odd with the rods, those pillar like structures that permeate the periphery of the retina, the structures that give low-light vision in black and white – that trigger reflexes attuned to movement in the peripheral vision.

She examines the rods closely and notices that the ends are bell-ended. They are not straight rods anymore, they've been widened at the tops. "My, my, Corporal Hicks, what _must_ your night-time vision be like? What reflexes attuned to those rods that now gather in – what – 400% more light?" 

Her hands-on examination of his reflexes earlier was inconspicuous, perfectly normal. Okay, maybe a bit too normal, given what they had put him through three days ago. What will they be like when he's fully healed? Will she even be able to able to conduct another examination on the Corporal, or will it quickly become too dangerous? Musing over these thoughts for a while longer, she decides to resume her examination of his eyes.

Upon zooming closer, she sees an irregularity on the tip of each rod. Tiny, she rotates for a better view, tiny, microscopic - _a half-dodecahedron!_ Darwin is astonished, what in God's name can that structure be capable of seeing. She has nothing in her knowledge base that can even begin to guess at what wavelength, if it is a wavelength, of light those structures can see. With a cold chill creeping down her spine she makes her notes and continues her study. 

She spots the cell structure of his skin. She'd noticed before that the cells were forming an interlocking type structure but now she notices that the interlocking fingers are becoming more refined, smaller and more plentiful. Almost as if he's heading toward armour plating himself. This is a revelation that she's going to have to keep an eye on. With every discovery she's made so far she can only conclude that the Corporal could so easily become a very real danger to them. Maybe pissing him off isn't such a good idea, she'd hate to be caught alone staring down the barrels of his night-sighted eyes in the dark with his brain seething rage at her. The silence around her seems oppressive all of a sudden as she looks up and through the window of her office. She's alone now, nobody else in sight. What would she do if Hicks somehow managed to free himself, if he somehow hunted her down? The picture of the broken restraints wells up from her memory. He's incredibly strong, probably as fast as his alien half-brothers once he's completely healed, and equipped with an all new set of high-tech senses. Plus he hates her. What chance would she have? And – what if they go with their schedule and subject the killer-psycho downstairs to the same procedure tomorrow night? Is it really wise?

A slight glint on the screen reroutes Darwin's attention to the job at hand. She zooms closer but can't quite make out what the glint is. It's certainly something within the skin cell, small, flat and plate like… the plate expands, the screen goes grey. He's cloaked!

Darwin sits back and speaks to the air, "So that's why the slow healing, your nanobots have been busy little bees elsewhere!" As stunning as the revelation is, her burning eyes refuse to show her a clear picture of what's happening. Before she can decide otherwise, she saves her findings on the server and leaves the program. Time to get some much-needed sleep. As much as she would like to continue poking around the CAT scan's data, she's rational enough to know that a break will help her make sense of them. And – yes, it must almost be the end of Isis' shift. She still needs to have a word with her synthetic assistant. She displayed some promising and surprising tactics during the confrontation in the Corporal's cell, but they need refinement. So, she definitely has to leave.

With a last, half-wistful, half-relieved look at her monitor, Darwin gets to her feet and makes for her personal quarters.


	5. Chapter 5

_‚Someone's coming... Wake up!' _

There is no noise from the door, no ominous hiss telling Hicks he's about to get company. No voices or footsteps from the adjoining room either, but he knows nevertheless and sits up with a jolt. Just in time to hear the door open. Several people. Three, by the sounds of it. The android and two he doesn't recognize. Getting up from his bed, he recognizes several other things simultaneously: First – he's feeling ace. Incredible, since he felt like shit to various degrees throughout the whole past two months, and even more incredible in the light of yesterday's events. They zapped him, damn it, and it had taken him an eternity to even get back into bed again. And now, all of a sudden, he's evolved into Superman, all over night. No more pain, no more exhaustion, nothing but pure energy surging through his body. He feels like he could run a marathon before breakfast. 

His discovery makes him smile, but it dies when he notices something else on his way to the small living room: They activated the stasis barrier. They know he's feeling better, too, and they know he's outrageously pissed at them. They are afraid! The smile's back, a nasty, pleased-with-himself one, as he comes to a halt in the doorway, and – shielding his eyes from the bright light – '_Christ, they_ _wanna blind me now? '_ – he watches them fumble around at the monitor there.

"'Morning everybody!" His two human visitors jerk, making him smile. _'Man, I'm finally_ _getting some authority around here, huh?' _He creases his brow. "What are you doing? Hey – leave it here!" One of the men is carrying out his monitor. "Hey!"

"Cool it, Hicks," Isis says, whom he ignored so far. "You'll get a new one."

"What's wrong with this one? It was okay when I turned it off last night."

"Callback," she adds with a shrug, and then eyes him a little more thoroughly. "So, how are you feeling today, Soldier? You look quite a lot better than yesterday."

The two workers have left, and now they're alone, only separated by the stasis barrier. Hicks squints into the light, still shielding his eyes. Even though he can't see any details, he feels her scrutinizing look.

"I'm okay." Amazingly enough, it's the truth, even if he can't wrap his brain around the fact himself. And suddenly he remembers what the android told him… about her mission. Sheeit – what is he supposed to make of this? Is she lying? Using another clever strategy to make him perform? Or… he lets go of the door frame to step into the living room and notices how the force-field adjusts to remain between them. A casual glance in the direction of the table. "Dim lights." The computer-controlled atmosphere changes to a twilight which finally enables him to open his eyes fully. "Did you bring me breakfast?"

"In the food-dispenser. You should really know the drill by now."

"Aw, heck!" He directs his steps over there. "Don't tell me it's another serving of this aromatized mud. How about something decent for a change?" He opens the little door and glances into the niche. Sighs. Sure as hell. He pulls the tray out and holds it out for Isis to see, accusation in his voice. "How am I supposed to get well if you keep on feeding me this shit?"

A slight smirk plays around the left corner of her mouth as she stuffs her hands into her frock.

"Seems to me it works just fine. It's actually much healthier than scrambled eggs and bacon and hash browns, you know? But I agree it looks appalling. It's another one of Darwin's little psycho-games, of course."

He hunkers back with the tray and all but lets it fall onto the table to sink into the chair beside it, dimly remembering their last night's conversation.

"The part of the 'quid-pro-quo' arrangement, huh? You wanna eat something that doesn't make you throw up, you have to perform a trick for the Ice Queen?"

"Exactly." She approaches, cocking an eyebrow. "I see you listened to me yesterday after all. Had any time to think about it yet?"

"No need to." He turns his back on her and shovels down the first spoon of mud. "I'm not that cheap." 

"Okay…" she stretches the word, looks over to the camera, then back at him. Inhales. "Tell me, what have you got to lose if you comply? Other than your pride, I mean."

""My pride's all I've got left. I'm not going to throw it away for a sandwich." He forces himself to swallow another spoon full and looks his visitor straight in the eye. "I'm not going to turn into a dog for your boss, Isis. Forget it."

"You're even more bullheaded than a herd of cows!" is her reply, accompanied by a head-shake and an audible sigh. 

"Thank you." Coming from her, he takes it as a compliment. 

"I don't know what you're thanking me for, but…" Another look out of the corners of her eyes in the direction of the camera. A few casual-looking, but well-considered steps, and she blocks the lenses view... and lowers her voice. "Don't look up. You remember what I told you about laying low? About making life as easy for you as you can until-"

"Yeah." Another spoonful. 

"I see. You don't believe me yet."

"Why should I?" Hicks pushes back the half-empty bowl and leans back, stretching his arms into the air. "Just because you took my side against queen-bitch for a minute? Nice try, but it'll take more than that to convince me, I'm afraid. Skeptical by nature." He wiggles his eyebrows.

"You know what you should ask yourself, Hicks?" He glances up, noticing how she has positioned herself in the room. Silently, but his eyes say it all. 'Well?' "You should ask yourself whether you can really afford to ignore me. Looks like you got a lot of time on your hands today to think about it. Use it wisely." She turns to leave, but halts again when she hears him saying, in a different tone than before:

"You know what would help? A little honesty."

She turns around, eyebrows meeting her hairline.

"Honesty?"

"Honesty. Tell me about your wonderful project. What you did to me. How it changed me, or will continue to change me. What you expect. What you want. How long you're gonna let me live. Everything you can tell me, you know?"

"Uh…" her hazel eyes go up to camera once more as if looking for help there, but of course, it doesn't come. "Okay, tell you what: I'll clear that up with my boss, and I'll be right back and give you what I can. How is that?"

He shrugs.

"We'll see."

***

"And that's it?"

"That's it." I look up from my folded hands on the table to meet Hicks' inquiring gaze. Now that we toned the light down enough for his hyper-sensitive eyes, he's pinning me like a virus under a microscope. What does he think? How will he react? I told him everything. Darwin put it all into my hands, saying she'd trust my judgment. Wow. So far, I didn't have time to think about it, but – it's really something. She's trusting me to do it right, even if it's a high-risk game. If I play the marine wrongly, he'll give us nothing. So what now? Does he believe me? Is he angry? Shocked? Amused? I can't tell. If I'd have to put a name on the expression he's wearing right now, I'd say he's… sad. 

"Let me summarize: I've got night-vision, ultra-tough skin and I'm basically evolving into a super-human, that right?"

"Basically."

"I, uhm… I absorb material through my _hands…" he breaks off, turning his palms upward to look at them and grins helplessly. I suppose he's asking himself whether he's still dreaming. _

"Not necessarily your hands. As far as we know, everything your skin comes in contact with." 

"But there's no way back for me…" The grin falls off his face as sudden as it appeared, while his gaze wanders off distractedly to the false window which displays a clear blue sky. He sucks on his lower lip for a moment, deep in thought.

"To Earth, you mean?" I shake my head. "I'm afraid not. You'd never pass ICC quarantine. The sensors-"

His attention returns to me, and yes, he is definitely sad.

"I didn't mean it like that, but I guess it answers my question. There's no way to reverse the… the process? Those nano- nanobots, they… they're only programmed to work in one direction? They can't undo what they've built?"

What an idea!

"Believe me, Darwin would be thrilled if she knew more about the 'bots. They fall apart under the electron microscope, we haven't find a method yet to study them… let alone understand their programming" His expression darkens. "I'm sorry."

"Likewise you've got no idea whether they're through with me, or… or…" He inhales deeply. "You know… whether they'll turn me into one of _those things._"

'No, soldier. Sorry.' I shake my head as he goes inside himself for a moment longer. A small nod, then another long, scrutinizing glance. He folds his fingers on the table.

"And what if I'm a success?"

"What do you mean?"

"If I become this indestructible, cold-blooded killer you want-"

I shake my head.

"No, no, no! Weren't you listening? Raven's supposed to become the killer! You're the prototype for the 'perfect soldier'." He laughs acidly.

"Where's the difference?"

I groan and imagine Darwin's bemused features behind the surveillance camera while she listens in on our conversation.

"You know perfectly well. You've killed people before. Does that make you a killer?"

"To some people? Certainly."

"What I mean is, would you define yourself as 'killer'?" An interesting conversation we're having. I didn't see this one coming. And I am equally amazed he's taking the topic and runs with it. No more blocking. Maybe all this loneliness over the last weeks helped in cracking his shell. Maybe Darwin's right again. Heck, what am I thinking? Of course she's right, ain't she always? Even if she isn't the biggest expert on practical human interaction, she knows the theory. Funny, there seems to be genuine surprise in the marine's eyes now, as well. The treatment added a slight metallic touch to the green of his retinas that looks stunning. I hope he doesn't mind my staring.

"I wouldn't. In this job, it's usually kill or be killed. Self-defense. I'm happy if things work out without violence, but I don't have a problem using it, either. That's probably the difference: I don't enjoy it. I only shoot when I have to. Then again, to other people, it would be nothing but playing on words. I kill, therefore I'm a killer." A short break. "So what will you do if I turn out to be everything you wanted to create? Will every soldier in the USCM get that treatment, whether he wants or not?"

"I don't know," I admit honestly. "But I wouldn't think so. We don't know anything about your skills yet. We don't know how controllable you are, or how well you can control your yourself. We don't know what else the 'bots will do to your system. Whether you're the 'finished product', or just in an intermediary state." Bad choice of words, Isis. I see him shiver at the thought and hasten to take the impact from my last words. "We'll have to find out as much as possible over the next few months before we can even remotely start to think about something like that. Right now, we don't know anything."

He clears his throat.

"How are you going to test Raven once he's… altered? Are you going to… I don't know… bring him down to the 'Zoo'? Set him loose among the local wildlife? Or let him have a little sparring with me, even? You know… something like Superman vs. The Hulk? Entertainment for your top-guys?"

"I don't know," I repeat. "You're way too far ahead, I'm afraid. We haven't even subjected him to the treatment yet. It's impossible to predict an outcome if we don't even know yet how he's going to react. Whether he will survive the procedure or not. Your own reaction, after all, was already quite a bit different to those of the test objects before you."

"Yeah?" He narrows his eyes, probably seeing the German journalist in front of his inner eye. "How so?" How the hell did we get into this? It's certainly the topic I want to discuss least with him, aside from his escape attempt, maybe! Good one, Isis!

"Well, for once, you didn't die."

"Like everyone before me." I nod. "You know why?"

"No. It's driving Darwin mad. Apart from a few miniscule alterations, the procedure was the same. You were already half-gone when the seizures suddenly stopped. It looked as if…" I stop. The memory is so vivid, it's still giving me the chills. Those dead eyes of his… the expressionless features…"It looked to us as if the process was suddenly slowed. We don't know why. We don't understand it. And, uh…" Should I really tell him? But maybe this is the key to understanding this state of his? "You, uhm… at this point, you didn't seem to be, uh, _there_." I can tell I have his undivided attention now. "I… I don't know how to express it, but it seemed as if you were, uh…"

"Possessed?" His voice is cool, detached, in stark contrast to his piercing gaze. For lack of a better word, I nod.

"Yes. You suddenly, uh, blanked out. Your features become all expressionless, even as you continued to fight us like hell. Like an insect, you know? Nothing showed. No rage, no effort… nothing. It was very unsettling."

He snorts.

"You're telling me?"

I place my arms on the table. If I'm interpreting his reply right, then…

"You mean you… you have a memory of these moments? Can you tell me what happened?"

"No." He's lying, I'm sure. His answer's too fast, blocking what potential other questions I might have. He doesn't want to talk about it.

"Come on," I urge him teasingly. "It's happening all the time. You can't tell me you're 'sleepwalking' anytime it happens." His stare turns icy.

"Oh yeah? So you're the expert here, I guess."

"Look, I thought we'd been through this! You cooperate and-"

"Cooperate, my ass!" He virtually jumps up from his chair, sends it toppling over behind him, and suddenly all the anger that had been boiling inside him before flares up to full glory again. "You just want to suck all the facts out of me so that you can weasel back to your boss and impress her. You don't give a rat's ass about me! Forget it! It's not gonna happen!"

"Oh yeah?" I raise my voice, too. "You know what else is not gonna happen? You wanna know what you're missing out on?" I jump to my feet, simultaneously digging my omnipresent remote out of the pockets of my jumpsuit. " Come on, let me show you! And this is just one thing you're never getting around to appreciate! It's not even the best!" I can virtually feel his acid smirk behind me as I depress the button. A gap opens in the otherwise seamless wall. I turn around and gesture him along. "Come on!"

His sigh is another insult. One of those "What's the use?"-sighs. But he takes a step.

"Don't tell me– a theme park solely for me."

I don't acknowledge his cynical tone.

"As a matter of fact – yes. Almost. Look for yourself!" He steps past me, passing me as close by as the stasis barrier will allow him to get, and throws a rather bored glance into the next room.

"More illusos. Wow." He sounds anything but thrilled. I step in after him.

"It's more. It's a 3-D gym. The latest in holo-achievements. Games you wouldn't have dreamt of. Machines –"

"Nothing but the best to ensure your lab rat's staying in prime condition, right?" His eyes wander from the virtual grass to the little fountain on the other side of the room, then up to the blue, slightly crowded sky. "After all, you want the 'Perfect soldier' and not some geeky scarecrow or a fat couch potato who can hardly stand on his own two feet. All this to make sure I get the way you want to have me, and you're selling it to me as if it's meant to be a reward? You guys got a fuckin' cheek!"

"Would you rather prefer your secluded existence in the spacious 35 sqm of your cell?" I sneer. "You wanna sit on that chair all day long and stare at the wall, chatting animatedly with your new alien friends?" His head snaps around, all pseudo-mockery suddenly vanished from his face.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

I take an involuntary step back. He looks plain dangerous. Ready to jump at my throat.

"Those fugue states of yours… you know, those numerous occasions where you blanked out…"

"The dreams." So he _does remember them!_

"I don't know if they are. So far, you haven't told me anything about them, right? But the CAT scan results showed us something in your brain yesterday which leads us to believe you might be in contact with your, uhm… you know, with _them_." His face goes white. 

"Like what?"

"You might wanna sit down, first."

"What's in my head, dammit?" he yells, eyes wide. Making that first, angry step towards me. If it weren't for the force field, I'm sure he'd throttle me right now.

"Alright, calm down, okay? It's nothing serious, it's just-" He looks as if he were about to faint – or bust a vein. "Come on, sit down."

"Tell me already, or- What the fuck did you do to me? Did you open my skull? Did you – did you perform brain surgery on me?" A hand goes up into his hair; as if he could feel it there. 

"We didn't do anything. Apparently, the 'bots built it. Judging from how early you developed those fugue states, it must have been the first thing they established."

"What?"

"It's – we think – some sort of communicator. A field of microscopic aerials, sitting right in the middle of your brain. We were wondering – Hicks?" His eyes are huge. 

"Oh fuck… shit…" He stumbles back, both hands holding his head as if he were afraid it'd fall off if he didn't hold on to it.

"Hicks?"

The pyramid. The hive. The … the queen. Not a dream after all? Was she in his head, poking around in his mind, his memories? Is he being manipulated by a giant bug? Is she here with him? Right now? Listening with his ears? Seeing with his eyes? Lurking? Using him to… what? Entertain her? Free her?

"You got an entire hive on this station?" he manages to whisper against the feeling of liquid nitrogen in his innards. "An entire hive… with a _queen_?"

Now it's the android's turn to look stunned. But she doesn't deny it.

"How do you know?"

"She told me."

"_What?"_ An unbelieving stare. Checking. Is he just trying to fool her? He gives her a weak smile in return. "You _are_ chatting with them?"

"Not verbally. She's sending me images… I think.  I – I thought – I thought they were dreams."

Isis looks incredulous. All this, this massive breakthrough in communication, out of the blue… this is big. Most certainly bigger than even her boss would have thought. And Hicks is already feeling a pang of guilt and anger well up inside of him over telling her. But this is too much! If he'd have to cope with this all by himself, it would drive him mad! It probably still will. Knowing what's going on doesn't soothe you when you realize it's the presence of another being in your mind – an alien being! What's schizophrenia against this? He slumps onto the couch, all strength sucked out of him all of a sudden. Trying to feel the lurking mind in the back of his head.

"They weren't." Isis comes after him, casually closing the door with a click on her remote control. It's no longer important. She sits down opposite him, absent-mindedly smoothing away a fold in her jumpsuit. "At least I don't think so. What was it, Dwayne? What did they show you?"

He's too preoccupied with himself to notice her switch to his first name. Suddenly, he snaps back, determination on his face.

" I want it out, you hear me? You got to cut it out!"

"We can't." Matter-of-factly. "It's sitting on a part of your brain we can't operate on. And Darwin would rather die than destroy what she's achieved so far."

"She's got no right to do that to me!"

A tiny nod.

"No. But that doesn't stop her. You know that. She not going to eradicate any changes the 'bots have done to you, and even if she did, they would probably rebuild it." A leaden silence. "You know what I would do in your place?" She lowers her voice again, sinks to that confidential tone she's already been using while she shared her secrets with him yesterday. She's sitting with her back to the camera again, and Hicks knows enough of her by now to understand that it's not by accident. He swallows what he wants to say and forces himself to listen. "Use it. Use it to get out of here. Use it to get even. They don't know what powers you're developing. They may be able to detect a few, like your increased range of vision, but they can't measure everything. Play along by giving them little bits and pieces, just enough to get some of the rewards and make life more pleasant for you … but hold back a few surprises. Take this as a game of poker. When the moment comes, you've got to have a full hand. When the time's there, present them with your Royal Flush. Stun them. And while they're stunned, use the moment to get the hell out of here. I'll help you do it. You know my biggest secret. Tell me yours. I promise, no, I swear I won't tell a soul. But I've got to know what you're capable of in order to help you."

He swallows, feeling his heart beating furiously in his chest. Does _She_ know why he's so agitated all of a sudden? Can she feel him? And Isis… Isis… what to make of her? He wants to believe her! He needs somebody in this mess, he can't shoulder it all alone… but… But, hell, this is all getting too much!" Somehow, without him consciously making it, his decision's there. It's not a decision of the mind, but the gut. He swallows, meets her urgent glance… and gives her the tiny nod she's not seriously been expecting.

"Okay." Her eyes grow huge, and whatever she just wanted to say, the fact that she suddenly got his cooperation after all these weeks of fighting lets her shut her mouth again… and smile. "One try. If I find out you're screwing me, that'll be it. Got that?"

She nods.

"Don't worry, Dwayne. Whatever you tell me will be safe. Only-" A sudden glint in her eyes. "I've got to tell Rogue. My maker. Will that be all right? After all, he' working against W.Y.. He'll need the facts to present your case to the public."

"But he's the only one."

"'course." She looks excited, and Hicks can feel ants walking up and down his spine himself. Things are happening now. Wheels are starting to turn. Whether it's a good thing or a bad thing, he can't tell yet. But it's better than waiting. "Just one more thing…"

"Yes?" 

"If this is supposed to work, we need to be able to talk freely on a regular basis. We can't do it here, with the camera and all. It'll look suspicious if I constantly turn my back to the camera for 15 minutes in a row. Take that deal I offered you. Ask for the walks in the park. They will grant it to you if you answer a few of their questions… "

"I know something better…" Now that he made up his mind, Hicks is starting to pursue the idea with everything he's got, even if the morning's taken on a decidedly surreal quality. He doesn't deem it totally impossible that someone will shake his shoulder and wake him up any second now. It can still be all nothing but a dream. Narrowing his eyes in anticipation of her response, he throws his suggestion at her. "Take a dose of Xeno-genes."

His proposition knocks the wind out of her artificial lungs, and while they're – presumably – on the same side now, he can't help but feel grim satisfaction over it.

_"What?" It's supposed to be a whisper, but it comes out as a hiss._

"Let the 'bots build one of their communication centers in your head, and we can chat 24/7 without them ever knowing." His tone insinuates he's serious, as outrageous as his suggestion sounds.

"That's-"

"The only plan that's making any sense."

"I'm not human, Dwayne! I don't know what Xeno-genes would do to my anatomy!" She leans forward, elbows placed on her knees. Pleading. She knows he's right, but having a piece of her own medicine… well, that's something else, right? Right, Ms. Android? Sorry, Cyborg?"

"Didn't you say you're part human?"

"Yes. My flesh. Muscle tissue, skin… my brain, however, is not. It's a CPU with a self-evolving program. There's no way they could build something like this thing in your head there! God knows what they'd do to me – they'd probably tear me apart to build I-don't-know-what !" Her voice is hardly audible, but the tone's intense nevertheless. Hicks shrugs, hardly impressed.

"Why don't you try? If it doesn't work, it doesn't work. Easy as that." He leans back. "Anyway, I think they want something from you." He indicates a blinking red light below the camera. "Time's up for now."

She gets up without taking her eyes of him.

"What should I tell them?"

"Tell the Ice Queen if she wants answers from me, she's got to come down here herself. And she should bring a recorder to tape the list of demands I'm going to throw at her."

A slight smile from the android.

"Sounds massive."

"My answers are valuable. She's not gonna get them at a bargain rate." He turns his back on his guest, dismissing her. "Tell her that." He hardly hears the door opening and closing behind him as he switches his mind back to the wealth of facts his caretaker presented him. Still unable to grasp the full meaning of what they did to him. Still wanting to wake up from this mess, even if he should find himself in that empty holding cell again where they locked him up after his escape attempt. Everything would be preferable to this. He's… a half-breed now? Part alien, part human? A hybrid? His dreams… they were no dreams, but messages from another being, that's so utterly, revoltingly different, it makes him sick just thinking about it? It's impossible. Is it? How can it be? How can a vicious, bloodthirsty, ugly bug from outer space know how to communicate with him? _'It's nothing but a fuckin' joke, right, _Isis? Still trying to get even with me for killing your friend, are you?'_ His stare goes up to the camera in a vain attempt to see what's lying behind it, eyes narrowed until they're nothing but slits. Seeing a weak, blue vapor around it, but his mind is so preoccupied, he doesn't register the change in his vision. There is a way of confirming his suspicion, right? He can do it, even if his innards cringe at the mere thought of going there. But what else should he do? What else but go into himself, to collect himself, all senses turned inward. To focus on that little ball of alien tissue that's supposed to sit in his brain. To find it… to sense it… to find out how to use it… and to slowly, carefully, reach out…_

***

_'Take a dose of Xeno-genes…' He must be crazy! He's not seriously expecting me to, is he? Just because he couldn't do anything about Darwin giving them to him, that doesn't mean I'll have to suffer the same! He just wants to see me in agony. He wants to have a good laugh, right? I still didn't get through to him. He's playing with me. It's that sick, warped human humor I'll never be able to get, and he's using me as his own, private entertainment!_

           But he's right! How long would we be able to keep up the secrecy if we did it 'the old-fashioned' way? How long until Darwin – or worse, Kurtz! – found out we're not enemies anymore, that we united against - _them? How would we manage to constantly avoid the cameras with their in-built microphones, however weak they are? Darwin's far too smart to be led on for very long. We're not going to be able to plot the fall of Weyland Yutani right under her nose. So… what to do instead?_

          I look at the probe in my hand. A thin glass cylinder with the dark substance. The substance which my inner turmoil is all about. To take it – or not? _'What would you guys do to me?'_ I enhance my vision as much as possible, actually believing I see something moving in the liquid. But that's stupid. I may have good eyesight, but I'm not a microscope.

          "Isis? Isis, come on! Are you dreaming?" Laughter rips me out of my thoughts. It's no sympathetic laughter, and as I turn around from the cabinet, closing the door from which I took the cylinder a moment ago, I see Darwin standing in front of me, her brow rippled, eyes on me. She isn't the one who's laughing, however. It's someone from her staff, behind her. They love to see me getting it from my boss. Strangely enough, today I couldn't care less. Their laughter sounds nervous, and I am probably just a welcome distraction from the fact that there's less than thirty minutes left before we'll be handling the most violent murderer in human history… to make him even more of a predator! "Are you listening?"

          "I'm sorry, Boss. I was-" But she doesn't hear me out, which is probably good, as I don't know how to continue my sentence anyway. A small nod towards the cylinder.

          "Be careful with that. It's the last sample we've got. I've got to start working on a new batch tomorrow, but if you let it fall, you'll ruin our little evening party."

          "I won't. Don't worry, Darwin." Did she ever see me let something fall? The others have already turned back to their tasks, having lost their interest in me, but Darwin's gaze stays on me for a while longer. Must have been my tone. Just when I expect her to open her mouth again for one of her trademark icy replies, she surprises me by turning her back on me, pretending to inspect the operation table one last time. Twenty minutes until that monster will lie there. Twenty minutes. They've already gone down to collect him.

          "Did you check on the stasis caster, Isis? It's probably the single most important item in this room tonight."

          "It's in perfect condition," I assure her, aiming the device jokingly at her back while she doesn't see it.

          "Are _you?"_

          Just like that, out of the blue. She doesn't even turn her head. I'm taken aback by her calculating tone. What is that supposed to mean?

          "Of course I am." I step up to her, pretending to inspect the forest of IV-bottles and lilnes at the head-end of the table. "Why do you ask?" Immediately I wish I didn't ask, but too late. Her pale eyes find me for a second.

                    "You don't seem to be yourself today. You never were distracted before. Not so distracted you didn't hear me anymore, anyway."

          Uh-oh…

          "I-"

          "We don't have the time to discuss that issue right now. All I'm asking of you is not to let that happen while we're working on Raven. A single mistake could be lethal. You know that."

          "Yes."

          "We're all placing our lives in your hands, Isis. Don't dream."

          I nod, not knowing what to say. Somehow, there's an inner tension building in me I never felt before. I guess this is what humans refer to as _'pressure'_. I could do without it, really! Silently cursing Rogue for the millionth time since the new program took a hold of me, I turn around as I hear the ominous hiss of the pressurized doors. The sound is electrifying, not just to me. 

          "They're coming."

          "I hope he's really out cold."

          "If Isis screws up…"

          The arrival of the human monster is accompanied by a rising level of murmur all around me. They're all afraid. Most of them experienced first-hand what the marine was able to do during the treatment – and Raven's about twice as massive, and thoroughly evil!

          My thumb plays with the remote's buttons as I watch the hover-stretcher with the giant's limp form approach. The tension in the room is almost unbearable. We all know what will happen if Raven wakes up before we've strapped him to the table. I raise the stasis-caster. Not to calm the others, but to calm myself. Is this fear I'm feeling? Or merely nervousness? Whatever it is, I don't like it. Wistfully remembering how cool I was when I guided the alien down to Lab 4 for its little sparring with the late Mack, I turn to the instruments. Raven's close enough now for his PDT to transmit its data into the main system and for me to see at once he's definitely not faking his sleep. A glance at the readouts shows me that they knocked him out with one third more of a dose than Hicks, just to be on the safe side. The massive amount of sedative in his blood would potentially be lethal to anyone without his impressive physique, but all it did to him was send him to Neverland. I wish we could go through the whole procedure while he were sleeping. Why does Darwin want him to be awake, anyway?

          "Isis?"

          "He's a mile under. No danger." I stuff the remote in my pocket and help the others to unstrap Raven and lift him onto the operating table. Not so much as a twitch from him. We close the metal restraints around his ankles, hip, wrists and neck and fix his head in an overstretched position. While Darwin inserts the tube and we're forced to stand back and watch, I can't help but admire the killer's incredible body. Pure, raw power. It would be awe-inspiring if it weren't connected to that evil mind. I saw Raven in that unconscious state once before, when he arrived. Even in cryo-sleep, there was this slight trace of a malicious smile on his lips that made me uncomfortable. It's there now, too. And this time, it's really giving me the creeps. It's as if he's just waiting … _'Geez, get a grip!' I bark at myself, seeing how Darwin's already hooking him up to the ventilator, and the rapid infuser's already applied to his neck, too. We're ready to go._

          I stare at the tube and can't help wondering whether I'll have to break his jaws open, too, to rescue our guinea pig from suffocating if he bites through the plastic. I don't want to put my fingers between his teeth…!

          "Ready, everybody?" Darwin has the syringe with the xeno-genes already in her hand and looks at us. Not even she knows what the next minutes and hours will bring. If she's nervous, she's a master of disguise. She looks nothing if not 100% concentrated. We all nod dutifully, exchanging concerned looks with each other. Lance, Samuel, Mariah … there are even two guards in the back of the room, heavily armed. If it comes to the worst… My boss looks satisfied. "Good." She shifts her attention back to the IV-line in her other hand, opens it. An alarm rises from the instrument board. I recognize it at once. 

          "He's starting to wake." More uncomfortable looks. Bracing for the next minutes, for the fight we're all expecting. Darwin inserts the needle into the IV-line and pushes the dark liquid into the solution. A first drop starts to make its way down to the killer's arm…

          She is in the middle of teaching when she feels the new connection. The creature which connected to the stream a while ago made a clumsy attempt to get in contact with her. It wasn't purposeful or skillful, like it knew what it was doing, but since she was lurking in it's database anyway, ordering the nanobots to give her more information about the being, she felt its feeble reach and responded with a clear image of herself. Meaning she was listening. The response was immediate, a flood of a substance being released into the being's system which caused its generator to accelerate, to contract the muscles and prepare its body for battle. She realizes this reaction as the common one of other creatures to her own race. Not that she encountered many different species in her short life. That knowledge lies embedded in her programming. As a weapon, she was created to detect that substance in her enemies, to follow its trail and bring the creature exuding it down. She can almost taste the substance's ripe sweetness through the nanobots' transmission, and it fills her with rage. She wants to tear, to rip into the warm, pulsating life, to swallow it and fill up her vast, empty storage with nutrients she needs so desperately by now. The food the creatures give her is not sufficient. It'll keep her and her offspring alive for a while, but she won't be able to develop further. Too many components are missing. How to get them? Not through the one who's joined them, as mouth-watering as its transmitted taste appears. She needs it to learn from. Maybe it will help them. But first, she has to make it understand. 

She's in the middle of sending back a sophisticated reply to the crude image she received, when there's another tug at her mind. Another one of these things! Excited, she turns her attention to it. Where are they all coming from? She knows how to proceed now. Slowly. Carefully. Seeing, tasting and sensing through the nanobots on their journey through uncharted territory…

A thin line of blood starts to trickle from Raven's nose. While symptoms like these made us nervous before, we know by now they're part of the game. But I still hesitate to go anywhere near him. I can clean him up later. I don't want to lean over him when he wakes up and finds out what we did to him. As if he heard my thoughts, Raven's eyes snap open, and we all jump back. 

"Isis!"

"I got him!" I aim the stasis-caster at him, ready to use it at the first sign of trouble. Behind me is the familiar sound of the instruments going berserk.

The creature's different. There's fear, yes, at first. But it quickly shifts into rage. It's fighting her entry! It's clear it doesn't know how to, but it's impressive nevertheless. All that ferocity, aimed at her! It wants to kill her, to force her out of his mind! Just once one glimpse into it's data-base is enough to know what she's dealing with, now that she learned how to decipher the images: It's a predator, just like her. She didn't know this species had them. Interesting. It's physical power is astonishing given that it's of the same race as the others who couldn't take her. Compared to her kind, it is still weak, but maybe… maybe she can put it to good use…

"He's biting through the tube!"

_'Please, not again!' Raven's massive jaws clench, and his teeth sever the plastic as if it were a piece of celery. _

"Isis!"

_'Please, I don't wanna do this!' But I obey and grab what's left of the mouthpiece to pull it out of the killer's trachea. The colorless eyes find me, and for a micro-second, I freeze. It's not just the eerie experience of being in the human beast's focus – but the odd impression of having _two_ beings staring at me out of the same eyes! It stuns me for a microsecond – for too long. Before I can react, Raven's right hand comes flying at me – tearing apart the metal restraint as if it weren't there and grabbing my hand with the stasis-caster just as I depress the button. Crunching my fingers around it and cutting off the beam. _Crushing_ my fingers! A white bolt hits my CPU, and I scream._

"Help her! Lance, Samuel!"

"Get him off!"

"Wait, I'll knock him out!"

A ruckus of shouts all around me, but I haven't got the time to identify them. Raven's freed his other hand, and blood spatters around as the IV-line is ripped from his vein as he buries his fingers in my throat! 

"Shoot! Shoot him!" Don't know who that is, but can't be Darwin. Everything becomes a blur as I fight for my life. With my free hand, I go for his eyes, not caring what Darwin will say if I pop them back into his skull. It's him or me! But he just stretches his arm, and I can't reach him! Blood's spilling down my neck at an alarming rate. Can I die from blood-loss? 

"No! Don't!" Sounds like my boss, alright. Just the thing for her to say. It's not her life on the line. My first attempt dismissed as futile, I bring my free hand down hard into the pit of Raven's elbow, feeling the bone shatter. He's holding on, but his grip is weaker. Another blow. He let's go of my throat, but still got my hand, squashed to a pulp around the remote. Trying to squash the remote along with it!

"Help me! Get him off me!" I get a grip on his wrist in an attempt to break it, but only for a moment. With a sharp 'twang' of busted metal, the giant sits up, the restraints around his neck and head burst, his huge head only inches from my face. I knock my brow against his nose with all the power I can muster – and feel his teeth dig into my cheek!

She's gotten better at it. All the research she did with the first body, all her efforts at understanding and using it without destroying it are finally paying off. The creature is like an elaborate marionette in her mind-grasp, controlled by the micro-machines in its body. And it is no longer fighting her. It's participating willingly in the battle against her captors, supplying her a wealth of raw power to use. The transmission brings her an overwhelming taste of blood. A taste of the enemy. She doubles her efforts.

_'Can't get him off… Can't – can't keep him at bay…" _

I'm falling apart. Raven's smashed me against the console as if he wanted to drive me right through it, submitting me not only to the shock of the impact, but to a dozen or more short-outs. Burning me. Causing my muscles to spasm. The electrical impulses play havoc with my systems. Both my hardware and my flesh is being crippled. I never thought I could lose against anyone, but – 

I drive up my knee against his groin, a trick I heard of from someone of the female staff, ages back. A hit, but I lack the necessary power to bring him down. He simply grins, showing me his bloodied teeth in the parody of a smile, filling out my vision. Blood gushes down from his nose and a cut from his cheek, but he doesn't even seem to notice. He's holding me one-handed, the other arm useless, and still there's nothing I can do. Looking into his eyes, I know I'm not only fighting him. This other presence is there as well, watching me squirm in its grip. I can see it in the colorless retinas. This is not like Hicks. Not the blank, expressionless features he displayed during the fight. Raven's there, enjoying it. Loving every second of it. 

He opens his mouth to say something. I can almost read it in his eyes. But nothing comes. His lips move, but there's no sound. And then he is gone, and only the other presence remains – and buries its teeth in my face again.

The taste makes her mad. It's the first time she's able to kill for herself, even if it's only in her mind. Even if the transmitted data are but a weak echo of the real thing. She doesn't know that. She wants more! And suddenly, a huge white flash hits her!

"Clear!" 

A surge of electrical current, greater than even the short-outs. To much for my sensitive circuits. I want to yell, but I can't. My eyes fold. Hearing, too. It is Darwin's voice I take with me into the blackness…

She pulls back, furious. Hungry. Just when she thought she had one of them, they drove her out with another EMP. Her drones circle her, agitated. Sensing her anger. She needs to find a defense against this weapon. She can't run the risk of destroying her sensitive neural net each time she plunges into those creatures. But she needs to do it if they ever want a chance to get out of their prison. There must be a way. There must be… and she'll find it. Meanwhile, it's back to the other one for her. She needs to learn more, yet. And the other will give it to her…


	6. Chapter 6

It's the noise of the door again after what had seemed to Hicks like an endless, rotten night. A night which was so different from the first day where he felt wonderful for a change, at least bodily… and – after the android's visit – when he even felt a slight ray of hope again. And like Isis had promised, they gave him a new plasma monitor to entertain him with. Deciding there was nothing else he could do at the moment, he put the entertainment center to good use for the first time since he's been in this place, zapping through the various illusos, playing with them and altering them. Playing a few games, listening to some music. They didn't let him out of his cell that day, and nobody else had come, but his mood had been a bit lighter than the days before. All of this had ended abruptly, however, in the evening. Shortly after 10 pm, a sudden burst of anxiety overwhelmed him to the point where he couldn't even stay put on a chair. A rush of adrenaline he couldn't rationally explain flooded his veins and turned him into a human caged tiger for a time he couldn't define. And he lost time again. One moment, it was 10 pm, and when he looked the next time, 130 minutes had gone by without him being able to tell how he spent them. Pacing his cell, probably, yet he has no recollection of it. Nothing but a vague hint of blood on his tongue, a notion of violence… and lust. A disturbing combination. 

Yet when he snapped out of it, he found to his dismay that reality wasn't any better. Something had changed. The good, strong feeling he had had almost for the entire day had gone - and been replaced by the sensation of his skin becoming harder and tighter like tough leather, making it increasingly hard to move at all. At last, he found that he had no other choice than to lie down, even though the flood of anxiety was far from over. It had been torture, but… his body was becoming more unresponsive by the hour.

And his eyesight decreased, too. According to Isis, his visual improvement ranged somewhere around the 400% mark, something he had not been actually aware of until she told him so – but the way it deteriorated now was even more drastic: Colors lost their shine, width of contrast vanished, and all detail lost to him - as if someone put a broad smear of grease right over his eyes. As if… as if he was going blind!

Hicks swallows. He doesn't have to remember last night to know how he felt – his condition hasn't changed. In fact, it's still in the process of becoming worse. The anxiety's gone, yeah, but it makes him realize his condition even more distinctly, now that he doesn't have anything else to occupy his attention: That disgusting notion of bursting out of his skin if he moved too much is getting more prominent, even though he's just lying on the bed, doing nothing. Gritting his teeth, he tries to sit up – but his body won't let him. His energy's gone. He feels tired, even though he just woke. Yes, it was a distressful night, but he's feeling so utterly spent, he could go to sleep right again. And when he finally opens his eyes to find out about their condition, all he's able to see is an indistinct pattern of bright and dark. What the hell is this? Is he coming down with some exotic space-disease?

"Hello? Corporal? You up?" The voice is muffled almost beyond recognition. As if the person it's belonging to was talking to him through the wall instead of standing in the next room. A shift in the indistinct pattern in front of his eyes. Someone's looking into the bedroom. "Corporal?" The muffled sound of steps… and the sensation of the force-field activating. Whoever's visiting him, he – or rather she – is afraid. No satisfaction over this fact today. Too tired... "Come on, rise and shine! It's already past 10.00 am. What is the matter with you? I thought you wanted to give me a huge list of demands? At least Isis told me so. Did you change your mind?"

It's Darwin. He's able to recognize at least that much. _'Come on, man, pull yourself together!'_ Somehow, everything but elegantly, he finally manages to sit up. 

"My Goodness, what is the matter with you?" He can see her better now, but her image is still a one-dimensional picture. A bad photograph. He also senses others behind her. Of course. She wouldn't dare confront him all on her own. "What's the matter with your eyes?" She moves a hand up and down in his line of vision. " Do you still see me?"

"Yeah, I see you."

"What's with your skin? It looks – strange."

"Shouldn't _you_ know?"

"I'd be glad if I did, trust me." A slight nod towards the other room. "I brought you breakfast… something decent for a change. As a sign of our good will. What happened, happened. There's no way to reverse it. We can only see what happens and document the development. We can help you cope with it, or you can do it alone. The decision is yours."

"I'm not hungry," Hicks mumbles, secretly wishing they'd leave him alone. He doesn't feel much like company. But since Isis probably arranged that her boss came down to him in person, it's on him to seize the opportunity and play his part, right? Is he crazy though? The first time they serve him something different than this aromatized mud – and he doesn't want it? To his surprise, he finds he's not lying. He isn't hungry, not at all. Although it's late in the morning, and he'd have every right to be. "Why are you here? Where's Isis?"

The break is longer than expected. And when his visitor finally speaks, she has a funny edge to her voice.

"Isis had an accident yesterday… a little run-in with Raven." 

_'What?!'_ The shock wakes him thoroughly. It is only with the last of his self-control that he manages to put a mildly surprised, slightly nasty smirk onto his face. 

"A run-in with Raven? How the fuck did _that_ happen? You let him run around the station now, or what?" Isis – is she done for? If she really was serious yesterday – what is he supposed to do now without her? It can't be that just when there's even an unlikely, small possibility for another escape-attempt, it's already taken away from him in the wink of an eye! His blood turns to ice-water when another thought hits: '_She did it! Somehow, she found out about this, and decided to destroy Isis before she could become active! Fuck! And now she's standing here, pretending to be saddened by the loss! What a bitch!_' Aggression wells up in him and replaces the fundamental tiredness he's feeling, so much that he has to dig his fingers into the mattress and hold on as to not jump at the scientist and make contact with the force-field. He's had an experience with a stasis field once, a long time ago. He's not keen on an encore.

"It was during an experiment," Darwin says evenly, eyeing him closely. Checking his reaction. _'How did she know? Can she read minds, for Christ's sake?'_

"An ex – oh no! You did it, right? Isis told me you'd be crazy enough to try it." A matter-of-factly nod. "You people just don't learn."

"I must say I underestimated his reaction," the young woman says, her eyes on the worthless instruments behind Hicks. Useless, because his PTS was disabled by the nanobots in his blood the night before. Too bad. Before, the readouts enabled her to judge his condition at least a bit, but now, whatever he's really feeling is a complete mystery to her. "I thought Isis would be able to handle him. I was wrong."

"Yeah, well…" Hicks snorts, "that's hardly a surprise." A deep breath, then a knowing look in her direction, even if he can just see a blur. "You created another monster. One you possibly won't be able to control like the aliens. A sick, human brain with alien instincts and ferocity. What kind of a feeling is that?"

She shrugs.

"It's not like our usual research is a walk in the park, either. We're used to these kind of challenges."

"Right. That's why the little unexpected run-in, huh? Totally intentional. And yet you are still so sure you're able to handle _me_. That's… astounding... or should I say 'arrogant'?"

"Unlike others, I'm able to learn from my few mistakes," his visitor replies coolly, not rising to the challenge. "I generally don't commit the same faux-pas twice, so just forget about it."

Hicks nods, diverting his attention to a cloud of stomach-teasing odor that comes drifting through the door. The smell of scrambled eggs and bacon. Something too good to be true! So what if his appetite has gone AWOL, he can't let this opportunity pass. He swings his legs over the side of the bed.

"So, you're here because you wanna hear my demands and brought me breakfast, that's it, huh? Why don't I buy that?"

"Because you're not stupid, probably." She takes a step back, inviting him to get up from the bed and follow her to the living room. Always on her guard, even though the force field is protecting her. "I thought once you agreed, we could get started right away. I've got a couple of questions for you… some concerning your behavior last night."

Her words electrify him.

"Why?" The sensation of sticking in a too-tight wet-suit as he steps up to the table is annoying. Heck, why shouldn't he play along and get some of his questions answered, too?

"Well, for once, since it was quite bizarre?"

He throws himself unceremoniously onto the chair – his knees won't bend properly - and forks the first piece of egg into his mouth. Relishes in the experience. It seems egg never tasted that good in his life. The coffee's a little on the strange side this morning, but heck, he can't have everything, right?

"Bizarre?" He echoes, mouth full. "Meaning what?"

"You don't remember doing anything unusual last night?" She sinks into his couch. Watching him intensely. Somehow, it seems to Hicks she's further away than it looks. He only hears her voice in a strangely muffled way and tilts his head sideways, first to the left, than to the right, to check for any air-bubbles in his ears, gently squeezing his left ear to his head with the palm of his free hand. No, sir. The sensation's unshakable. He sighs to himself.

"Got any problems with your hearing?" Darwin puts the subject up.

"I hear you fine," he lies. "What do you mean by 'unusual'? Eating the feast you nice people served me, playing a few games, or going to bed? Anything I should have done, that you expected me to do, which I didn't? Like cocooning myself before going to sleep, or what?"

"I was more talking about tossing around in you bed, pacing your room like a tiger on ecstasy or trashing your place. Biting through your lip. Was dinner so bad you tried to eat yourself?"

He can't say anything. Reflexively, his hand goes up to touch his mouth, to gently brush over his lower lip. Nothing there.

"You're bullshitting me."

"Wanna see for yourself?" With a casual gesture, his guest takes a remote from the pocket of her frock, and the new plasma monitor flickers to life. To Hicks, curious as he is, it's nothing more than a blur of colors, and so he shifts his attention back to Darwin. "What? You don't want to see it?"

"I can't," he confesses reluctantly. "My eyesight started to deteriorate last night. Guess I need glasses now. Thanks." The fork hits the empty plate, and he puts it down and leans back, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Just a few minutes ago you said you could see me just fine."

"I said I saw you. Your shape. No details. And it's getting worse."

"I figured there was something wrong with your eyes. They look kind of thick. It started yesterday evening, you said?" He doesn't answer. "And what's with your skin? You look uncomfortable. That started yesterday too? Let me see." She gets up to get a closer look at him and sees his defensive expression. "Don't worry, I won't hurt you. I just want so see." 

He gives her a long, hard stare, barely seeing her. Only vaguely sensing her presence. 

She's taking her time; causing a long uncomfortable silence between them that leaves Hicks more than just a little anxious. 

"So, what is it?"

"I'm not sure.... " She leans back again. "But from what I can see from here, it looks as if the corneas have thickened. Just like your skin - it looks a bit like sturdy leather. Not flexible anymore." Hicks swallows. Great. Just what the fuck is happening to him? "Of course I can't say anything definitive right now without a more thorough examination, but I've got a theory... Would you like to hear it?"

"Let me guess." The scrambled eggs suddenly toss and turn in his upset stomach as if it had turned into a washing machine. "I'm developing a – what do you call that stuff? A chitinous shell? A fuckin' body armor?" Man, _that _thought is scary! His heartbeat accelerates.

"I don't know." He can't see her expression, and her voice doesn't give anything away. "I've never seen a human being in your state, but… it's not uncommon in nature. _If _I'm right, of course. _If _I'm right, you're about to shed your old skin." 

"Excuse me?" His skin would crawl if it were still able to do so. But at least, the short hairs on the back of his neck do as his nerve-endings order them to – they stand up.

Darwin sounds excited now, and while Hicks thought this was about the first halfway normal conversation they were having, he can't help but utterly hate her with renewed force. 

"Just like a snake, you know? Exactly like a snake – or a spider! Have you ever seen a snake shed its skin? At first, they get all immobilized by their sturdy old skin. Even their eyes cover up. The corneas thicken, and they go entirely blind, just like you! And then, one day, when the new skin has fully developed, they break through their old hull and slip out, bigger, badder and meaner than ever before. I wonder if it's really this that is happening."

"Yeah..." This is making Hicks physically sick. Disgusted with himself. Is this really what's happening to him? Fuck, he's an animal then, right? Nothing but a big spider with a few legs missing. Or a snake? The image of himself crawling out of a perfect, hollow image of himself, flicking his tongue, his eyes with now slitted pupils, gives him the absolute creeps. The lump of egg in his now throbbing stomach has become the hot, pulsing center of the universe. If he's got to puke in front of her, he hopes he'll at least hit her and share some of the indignity. "This would really get you off, right? Me turning into one of those things?"

"As a matter of fact, no. I would like for you to stay in your human shape as much as possible. Having you turn into an alien wouldn't serve the purpose."

"Right," he wisecracks, not really feeling like joking. "The Corps doesn't make uniforms this size. Very costly to order thousands of new battle outfits. Bad for project 'Perfect Soldier'."

"That, and the small advantage of remaining able to blend in with the rest of humanity . We want to develop indestructible soldiers who can control their special abilities and use them only when they're called for. After all, we want them to be able to lead a reasonably normal life. We don't-" she furrows her brow at Hicks' laughter, "-we don't want them to be beasts that spend their off-mission lives in cages."

"Jesus, you're really full of it! You think you can create alien-human hybrids who lead normal lives and walk among the rest of the population unnoticed? Please!" He shakes his head. "How about if that person wants to have a family? Or-"

"It's news to me that you Colonial Marines make out with civilians. Isn't it an unspoken rule among you only to become engaged with someone who's spending half of his life in cryosleep, too? To escape the nasty side effect of having one part of the couple age while the other sees him wither away whenever he's there to actually see it?"

"Okay, right … but you've got no idea what will happen if two hybrids do the Cha Cha together, either, right? I mean, you can't! How? You don't even know what's happing with Raven and me. You don't know how it affects women. You haven't got a clue how the chromosomes of two hybrids would mix. Geez, it makes me sick just thinking about this!"

"Well," she shrugs. "You're right. But we've only just begun. It could still take years until we know everything, but so what? The possibilities are endless. We'll find a way to make it work, trust me." A sharp beep out of her pocket makes her jump. "Well, I'm sorry I have to end this interesting discussion now but I'm needed somewhere else. Write down your demands. I'll either be back later this afternoon or have my assistant pick them up. Oh, and you might want to ready your mind for _our_ first request: We need samples."

"Samples?" The word alone gives him the creeps. "Of what?"

"Skin. Blood. The works."

"You sure you'll be able to get them?"

"You want us to help you with this condition you're in, you'll have to cooperate, Corporal." She stands up. "I'll be back this afternoon… think about it. We can get what we need either way, but it would be in your best interest not to cause us any problems." Her steps sound further away, and the hiss of the door tells Hicks he's about to be left alone again. Good. He's not feeling well. He wants to lie down again and think about what he's just heard. Especially pondering the problem what he's supposed to do without the android. Looks like there's no way out of this cell without her. Apparently, no one else is deemed capable of controlling him. So, no park. No secret plans. No nothing.

And what does it mean for him now that Raven is one of his breed too? His own unusual behavior last night… he's got the gloomy feeling there's a connection. He'll have to ask Darwin for details when she returns. He's got to know whether he's sharing his mind not only with predatory space bugs, but a blood-thirsty mass murder now, too. 

Grim prospects. What he is becoming? How is he supposed to stay sane? Where is this all leading to? And why should he even fight when it doesn't look like a good outcome's still within reach for him?

Enough food for thought to cause him headaches. With a grim, dark expression on his face, Hicks – with some difficulty - gets up and hunkers back to his bedroom and all but lets himself fall onto the mattress. His condition's getting worse by the minute, his body becoming a prison. What is he becoming? What will he be once he wakes up the next time? A bloodthirsty, unstoppable predator? Is this the last time he'll go to sleep as Dwayne Hicks, the last time he knows who and what he is? 

Fear presses his lungs together, tightens his throat. There's nothing he can do. Nothing but wait… and follow his body's call into a realm of unspeakable horror…

***

"-sis? Do you hear me?"

A voice in the darkness. The blackness is complete. No shadows, no irregularities. The kind of darkness that's telling me that my visuals don't work, and I can't move. I want to answer Darwin – at least I think I recognize her voice – but I'm dead like a stone. Except… my port's open. She wired me up to something, probably her computer. It should be able to communicate this way.

_'Hello Darwin,'_ I answer, hoping that the words will appear on her monitor. What if she thinks I'm a hopeless case and throws me away?

"I can't make her talk," I hear my bosses reply. She sounds worried. A rare enough sound from her. "I already exchanged the unit and downloaded the system onto the new one, but still… You got an idea? Oh, wait, there she is!" A short break. "She hears me." A sigh of relief. "Well, that's at least something after 24 hours of hard work. I was beginning to despair."

24 hours? She's been working on me for an entire day? What happened? Am I in pieces? I send her my question and am rewarded with a reply a short while later.

"You had a run-in with Raven during the treatment. Don't you remember?"

I'm trying to. I try to remember what experiment she's talking of. Who Raven is. It won't come. Immediately, I'm worried. What happened to my storage? My memories? A brief internal hardware check brings another subject of worry to my mind: _'New hardware detected. Install?'_

_'No.'_

"She doesn't remember," I hear Darwin say to whoever. But I didn't mean the 'no' in answer to her question. More worry in her voice. "I can restore what I have from the last backup, but… it's been a while. She'd lose her entire new personality if I couldn't retrieve the data she accumulated in the meantime." She pauses. I hear some very low murmur, too low for me to hear who it is or what he's saying. And I'm too preoccupied with my discovery, anyway.

__

'Unknown virus detected. Run counter-measures?'

It takes my breath away, even if I'm nothing but brain right now. Finally. What I feared for all the time has come true. I'm infected. Does Darwin see my inner battle on her monitor? Does she know the problem? Strangely enough, I don't want her to know yet.

__

'Initiate counter-measures. Issue full report.'

Columns of data at a rate no human being would be able to make sense of, but they make plenty of sense to me, even in my deranged state. The 'new hardware' seems to have spread through my entire body. A larger object of unknown function has been built around my CPU, has in fact been blended in perfectly with the given surroundings. The other objects – miniscule, of microscopic proportions – move around in my bloodstream. Doing things to my system I can't define. 'Rearranging' it.

"At least six weeks worth, I'm afraid. I've been slack. Too much pressure with this xenomorph-project. I could kill myself!" I hear Darwin as background walla. "No, I'm not sure they're entirely lost. She just can't access them. At least I hope so. And she can't move. And – Isis? Can you see anything? Or feel?"

_'Nothing,'_ I answer, just diverting enough attention from my inner battle as necessary to answer her. _'I can only hear you. How bad am I, Darwin? Am I in pieces? Beyond repair?'_

"No, you're not beyond repair. At least I don't think so. It might take a while, and I still need to find replacement parts for your hand, but I'm confident you'll be up and running in no time… if I could just figure out what happened to your memory…" The sound of fingers flying over a keyboard. "So, you got no other idea, right?" She doesn't seem to mean me, and so I'm off into myself again. 

_'Counter-measures executed. Elimination of virus unsuccessful. Retry? Abort?'_

What is this? What's in my body? If I could only access my memory files! I shift my attention back at the larger object in my head. Somehow, I feel this is what's causing the problem. I scan it. It's blended so seamlessly into the hardware, it feels as if it's supposed to be there. But I'm sure it's not. What could it be good for? Some sort of communication device? Did Darwin build it? No, can't be. Its doesn't look like humans built it at all. It feels utterly alien. 

_'Install'?_ Shall I do it? Shall I run the risk of maybe losing myself entirely? Maybe it's some sort of remote control – 'Built by whom?' – and as soon as I activate it, I'll be nothing than a puppet? I want to ask Darwin what to do, I want to ask her whether she implanted it into my head, but… something holds me back. Something I can't name. I just know I don't want her to know about it. Install – or not? What to do? Somehow I'm under the impression it's working already… it's just waiting for me to plug in and make use of whatever it's delivering. I won't get anywhere by just pondering about it. _'Install.'_

As soon as I've issued the order, I'm rewarded with static, both optic and acoustic. Leaving Darwin behind, I dive into it, relieved I still seem to be myself. I still know what I'm doing. Except I can't make anything of the data I'm receiving. Are they encrypted? I run them through a sequence of filters until finally I get the frequency loud and clear. High-pitched noises, almost too high to hear even for me, their format a mystery to me. And images. Scrambled, but I manage to make them clearer in surprisingly short time. And internally lean back to look. 

A room. The image is still blurred, but it looks familiar. The accompanying noise is… an intake of breath. Someone's breathing. Slowly, regularly. Whoever it is I'm receiving, he appears to be sleeping. Passive. The image changes. A face – no. Some vague shape, swimming in and out of focus. At first, it looks thoroughly human, the next moment, it melts into something unsettling. Too blurred to make out in detail, but unsettling. And it's too dark to see it properly. Then, as if the sender of these images recognized he's being watched, everything goes dim, as if he's deliberately turning down the light. Then nothing but black. Just what the hell was that?

_'Hello?'_ My message leaves me not in the form of words, but as an image. I'm sending my picture. The transceiver – what the device must be – formats my thoughts and sends them out! Fascinating! How does it work? Maybe it doesn't, because I don't get anything back but static. Whatever I just tapped into, it's not responsive.

_'Hello? Can anybody read me?'_ This feels almost familiar. A bit like my conversations with Rogue through subspace communication. If I were human, I'd probably think I was dreaming. _'I am not able to dream. So this must be for real.'_ Funny thing, that scrambler. It takes my words and transforms them into images. For a moment a thought flashes through my mind – _'What if Darwin_ _reads them on her monitor?'_, but just as I get ready to have another go at that dark transmission with the breathing sound, it's drowned out by two others, overlapping. One, hardly perceptible under the other, stronger one, consists of Raven's blood-streaked face. My blood, mixed with his. He looks disappointed. Disappointed he didn't kill me. He opens his mouth, but before he can utter a sound, something else comes booming in with the force of a virtual battering ram! And something in my body reacts. Somehow, I feel as I were but a giant antenna, with the radio waves filling me up, seeping out of me. An unsettling sensation. Reflexively, I tune it down. I don't know how I'm doing it, but it works just the same. This presence is different than Raven's, so utterly different, I don't know what to name it. A different feel to it, a different format. Not hesitant, but commanding. Probing. Trying to access my memory! And suddenly, the connection's cut, I don't know why. Did _I_ do it? _How_? 

Slowly, I drift to the surface again enough to hear Darwin still talking somewhere to my left.

"Okay… I'm on my own here, huh?… Yeah, I know. But what will you do if someday I can't find a solution?… No, I'm sure I will. Hikahi already stitched her up. Maybe I should wait with the activation of her sensory input until she's fully healed, what do you think? We shouldn't have to wait too long, she heals fast. – Yes, sure. If I run into any more problems, I let you know, thanks. – You too.. Don't stick your nose out too far, you hear me?" Silence. Who is she talking to? Steps, coming closer. Stopping on my right side.

"Don't worry, Isis. You're going to make it. It was close, but there's nothing I can't repair. And I will solve that memory problem, too. You're going to be just the way you were one second before it happened."

To my surprise, I find my memory's working again. It must have been for some time now, but I didn't even notice. I remembered Raven. The experiment. The xenomorphs. Hicks. It's all back suddenly. I was just too preoccupied to notice. And I'm still having a hard time trying to shake the feeling of that big conscience trying to control me. 

"I think it's already up and running again." How exactly did I restore it? By installing the new device? Was it blocking my memory? "Maybe it was just sensory overload. Raven attacked me, right?" I hear my words uttered by a bland, female voice. She put me on voice-mail, since I still can't talk for myself. A strange sensation. Couldn't she have chosen a better one? This one sounds utterly stupid!

"He almost disassembled you, Ice. You remember it now?"

"Yes."

"Do you feel anything? Like… I don't know… pain?

"He got me good, didn't he?"

"Yes." From the noises I hear I get the impression Darwin's sitting down beside me. A brief tug at my port. "By ramming you through the console, he almost electrocuted you. Well, and the shock of the defibrillation obviously finished what he started, but it was the only option I could think of. You shorted out. I'm optimistic though there won't be any permanent damage. I was quite worried about your memory block. But now that you're finally able to access it again… How did you do it?"

"I don't know," I answer truthfully. "How do I look, Darwin? Am I still in one piece?"

"Sure. Don't worry about it. He bit a couple of holes in your face and opened your neck. You are also badly burned in a couple of places. For a human it would be bad but I'm positive you'll fully recover. The only thing I'm not yet sure of is your hand. It could get hard finding the right parts. We may ultimately have to build them ourselves, but I'm doing my best. Hopefully, all you'll need is another visit at a tattoo-parlor once I'm through with you. Hikahi applied some synth-flesh to your wounds, and it's growing fine. If it keeps on healing at that rate, there'll be nothing visible in a couple of days." Humor? From Darwin? I'm surprised. And she sounds so unusually warm. I half expected her to blame me for what happened. The dumb android screwed up, right? But no. "You can't move yet, right?"

I try.

"No."

"I thought so. The circuit's fried. I'm gonna have to replace it." I hear a suppressed yawn. "Oh well…" The bright sound of an instrument she's picking up.

"Wait…" Sure, she's a genius, but even a genius gets exhausted, right? And exhaustion causes mistakes. I don't want her to cut through something vital because she doesn't know what she's doing anymore. "Why don't you take a break, Darwin?"

"What?" An unbelieving laugh. "You like lying around, totally immobilized?" 

"I don't mind. I can take it for a while longer. It's not like I'm missing something important, right? Go to sleep for a couple of hours. You sound as if you could use it. I don't want you to fall asleep with the cutting-torch in my innards." She laughs at that. "Finish me tomorrow. I'll be fine, don't worry. I'm going to have to run a couple of rather lengthy systems checks, anyway."

"You sure?" She doesn't object. Usually she doesn't like people trying to decide for her. She must be really tired. 

"Absolutely. Let me lie here for the night and heal up a little more, and tomorrow you fix me, first thing in the morning. How does that sound?"

"Like a plan, I'd say." I don't know what she does, it's a strange little noise, like a little clap. Could she be patting my hand? No, I decide. Too far out of character. The chair next to me creaks, and then the sound of footsteps. "All right, I'll go. But I'll hook up the voice-mail to my bedroom. If anything happens, wake me, okay? I don't want to lose my favorite assistant in the world."

'What could possibly happen?' I think. If I'm really at her private quarters – and it sounded like that – I'm in the safest room of the entire station.

"You can do that, of course. But I doubt I'll use it. See that you get some shut-eye, boss."

"Well… good night then, Isis."

"Good night, Darwin."

The sound of her steps fades, and I'm alone. Good. I want to know more about the transceiver. I know its source now. When Raven attacked me, he accidentally mixed his blood with mine: He gave me the nanobots. What Hicks wanted for me to do is reality now. I doubt I would have done it if the decision had been up to me, but now I'm dealing with a changed reality. A reality that has opened prospects for me I didn't dare dream of before. The xenos are biomechanical creatures, and so am I. I _must_ have the capability to use their technology to our advantage. I know have. I'm pure logic, at least I used to be. I'll have to find it in me again. To push aside the doubts and emotions which had hindered me to pursue my mission with the necessary determination. This phase is over. I know what I have to do now… and I need Hicks to follow me…

***

The queen is confused. For the first time since these sub-space encounters started happening to her, she's come across a being she was almost able to understand. She understood enough of it to see the similarities between them. The being on the other end was like her in a way. Something programmed, just like her. And yet, something driven by instincts, too – again, just like her. A biomechanoid. But not one of her kind. She is sure about that. They should nevertheless have been able to communicate on some level, as the nanobots had already established the transceiver in this one. Yet when she diverted her full attention at the creature, it withdrew. It shut her off, denied her entry! How can this be possible? She's still got access to the micro-machines in its body, but they only build what she's telling them to build. She can't force the being to open itself to her again through them… or can she? Maybe there is a way. Her orders enter the stream…

***

Diffuse, dark gray. The roar of wind in his ears. It is cold, and he is all alone. Feeling the call, but he doesn't know which way to turn. Doesn't know which way is up or down. The world is a shifting, swirling, turning liquid, and what looks like a path for a moment flows apart the next. And he can't move. His body disobeys his orders. It feels as if he's cemented into the ground. Can barely rise his head, even when the wind stops abruptly. A heavy, expectant silence replaces it, and a tropical greenhouse-atmosphere – hot, humid – chases away the cold. Once again struggling against his restraints, Hicks tilts his head to the side and sees why his efforts are fruitless: They glued him to the wall, right next to the decaying corpse of a stranger. His hands and feet are buried in the warm, dry, organic stuff they use as building material. Not a chance of getting them out.

****

The biomechanical device inside his head picks up signals upon signals. He's not alone anymore. The place is bursting with life. There's movement all around him, fast, purposeful. Flickering messages that race through his mind too fast for him to make sense of. But he knows where he is now, even before he hears Her labored breathing. The stream. He's entered the stream. He's not bodily in Her hive, but his mind is nevertheless convinced of the altered reality his eyes show him.

The queen's presence fills him with a sense of wholeness and awe… and fear, but only in the very back of his mind. Instinctively, he knows why he's here. She summoned him for a questioning. To dive into his memory and extract what she needs. She is losing patience with him, the urgent vibe she's exuding is unmistakable. He's learning too slowly, too reluctantly, and their time is running out. For the good of the hive, She needs to find a way to overcome the enemy now. And of the three new additions to Her colony – three? – She deems him most suited for the task. He understands this all without questioning how or why, because his own train ofthought is blocked by Her. The mother of the hive is demanding his undivided attention.

The first image she transmits is that of the human predator: easy to control, willingly following her orders, but his data-base is not as vast and complicated as Hicks'. He doesn't possess strategic intelligence, or far-reaching technical knowledge. He doesn't know about force fields or other security measures. He's a physical weapon, raw power and bloodlust, but no warrior in the true sense. Someone to keep their captors busy with once they're outside their prison, but no one who can get them out of this place. Raven's picture floats through Hicks' mind, and he takes it in without emotion. 

The image flows apart and is replaced with another one, a biomechanical creature. In some ways related to them – delicate and yet stronger than any other creature within reach, but also vastly different. And not yet controllable. She can't access the being's data-base, and even the nanobots in its body are getting more difficult to handle. It's like they've been reprogrammed, listening to a different master now. How can this be? She needs to find a solution to this problem, but in the meantime, it is better not to count this creature on her side. For all She knows, it could even pose a threat to them. The image of a woman's face, heavily tattooed, swims into focus. Hicks knows her, but is too dazed to feel something like surprise over it. 

And then he sees himself, even if his face looks vaguely different with its gleaming metallic eyes and the cruel expression in them. Apparently, she deems him as appropriate for the task, even if she is not satisfied with his cooperation yet. A flood of images explodes in Hicks' skull with the force of a mind-bomb, dozens of questions at the same time: How are they being kept in their cage? Why can't they get outside? Why can't they reach the beings that occasionally enter the hive and remove Her offspring? And – most important – how to change it? How to overcome the barriers, to turn their prison into a breeding ground? She needs his assistance, and she's not in the mood to be put on hold any longer by his clumsy, barely understandable replies. He's had enough time to learn the use of the subspace communicator. He must tell her!

And he _wants_ to tell her – at least part of him. After all, he's part of the hive! They've got the same mission – to get out of this place – and to punish their torturers for what they did to him and his half-brothers. They both want the same… except… except another part of him is still human enough to put up resistance. If he helps them out, there'll be a bloodbath on this station, and maybe not just on the station. 

__

'Why should you worry? Let 'em all die – they deserve it!' The voice in his mind is strong and loud – and it's not talking in human-tongue. It belongs to the half of his existence that wants the bloodbath. That wants to be a substantial element of the slaughter. It's strong, but not alone. There are concerns floating through the back of his mind this half hates, but it can't silence them. What if the aliens get off Phooka, get on a ship and start infesting the colonies? It could be the beginning of the end, all thanks to him! No! He can't do it. He can't-

A silver bolt of pain races through the part of his brain that just thought that treacherous thought. Hicks yells, reflexively trying to press his hands against his temples, but they are still glued to the wall, useless. Blood spurts out of his nostrils, drips into his mouth for him to taste, runs down his chin and drips onto his chest. 

"Stop it! Stop it! Please!" He's not aware he's uttering his plea in human tongue. It makes the queen angry, and the rest of the hive, too. The pressure intensifies even more, but he can still hear the combined hiss of the queen and her two dozen drones. It's clear what she means: There's only place for one mind in the hive, and it's hers. She can't tolerate his ongoing resistance any longer. He's got to give up his individuality, his human-ness, or she'll squash him like a bug. There's no room for human thoughts in her nest! 

The pain is intense, and the taste of his own blood strengthens his alien part, wakes its savageness and melts away the mental blockade he's been keeping up. 

"Shit, why are you so fuckin' stubborn?" a well-known voice laughs, coming closer. "Just join. You don't owe these fuckers nothin'. Look at what they've done to you. You don't want a little revenge, huh?" Big boots fill out his range of vision. It takes Hicks an inhuman effort to raise his head and look at Raven. The sight of the killer takes his breath away, even though he knows that this is not reality. It's a dream with some reality mixed into it, but the iron metal surface and the chrome-glittering teeth the giant gave himself in this realm – along with the silver eyes– turned his appearance into that of a monster… a monster with Raven's grin. "Nice outfit, huh? Being one of them is quite a sensation!"

"This isn't real," Hicks manages to croak. "I'm dreaming. Get the fuck out of my head – all of you!" Roaring laughter meets his outburst – and another bolt of pain, enough to make him sick. "You kill me, bitch, and you get nothing, you hear me?" He tries to send her an angry image, but can't concentrate enough. Something moves in his body, and the next moment, the pain starts there, too. She's activated the nanobots, told them to tear into his body, to destroy their work of many days… slowly. She's serious. If he doesn't give Her what She wants, She'll kill him right here, right now. But can She? If this is just a dream -

"This ain't real?" Raven grins. "Maybe _you're _dreaming, I'm not. Fuckin' get it in your head, man: She wants us to help Her, and she'll reward us if we do! You don't wanna get out? You like it in here? Speak for yourself, man! Me, I'm sick and tired of this fuckin' place. I wanna get even with that little blonde bitch."

"I bet." Hicks groans. His veins feel as if they were filled with liquid fire.

"You're doing this to yourself, asshole! She doesn't want to punish you. And hell, you've got no idea what she does when she's happy with you. She's got a way of rewarding someone, let me tell you! You don't ever want her to stop." Raven turns to the matriarch and stretches out his arm, almost touching the vulnerable part directly over the glassy jaws. "Right, darlin'? Show him. He doesn't understand." 

A whirl of colors from the transceiver takes Hicks' vision away and reduces him to senses, only. The mind's disconnected by the sudden exhilaration his body is reacting with. Something, not exactly an odor, but more of an… essence… enters his airways through his still bleeding nose and floods down his throat to fill up his bronchia and lungs. Fills him up whole. Takes away the hurt and soothes his tortured body with a feeling of belonging, of plunging into the stream, all-encompassing. Sexual. Urgent. Overwhelming. So powerful, he can only moan. It gets stronger. And stronger. Becomes almost unbearable in its pleasure, but he never wants it to stop. _Stronger_. And – suddenly it's gone, and the landing in the world of hurt he was in before is hard. So hard all Hicks can do is gasp. There's no air left for a scream in his lungs.

"See? You'd be crazy not to want this." Raven's voice clearly conveys the pleasure he, too, felt in the pheromone cloud. "You can have it all the time. Just join us. This supposedly heroic stuff you're doing is complete bullshit. No one's gonna reward you for it. There are no medals for stupidity. Be smart, be on the winners' side, come on!"

His words sink in. Before they ricocheted off the human part of Hicks' mind like bullets, but his resistance is melting away now, even though he is desperately trying to hold it up. The holes in his cover get bigger. They eat into the rest of his willpower like acid, dissolve it, help the other part to get stronger, to develop. The taste of his own blood fuels its fury, makes it ravenous until it turns on the other one to sink its teeth and claws into the fighting rest of human identity. This is the enemy, right here with them. Holding them captive. Torturing them. Killing them. It has to be exorcised from this body once and for all. Once they control the human hull, they can concentrate on creating the perfect opportunity for their escape. By keeping up the human facade, it should be possible to get them within reach of the force-field generators. To do that, they can't kill off the human part of the mind entirely. They'll need it as a basic program to run this body – they won't be able to make use of its technical and strategic knowledge otherwise. They need it to be able to communicate – language, human interaction, everything to assure the rest of its species it's still one of them. All things that are a mystery to their race. They are too different. There's only one way to accomplish this – the two identities have to merge.

Tearing and ripping into the essence of the other mind with a new purpose, the queen forces her way in.


	7. Chapter 7

"How does that feel?"

            I move my legs and – satisfied with the results - place my feet on the ground. They carry my weight. Finally, after three days of intense repair-work by my human alter-ego, I'll be able to move around again. I can't wait. Laying around immobilized all day long is not really my cup of tea. And from what I was able to conclude from her narration as well as my 'internal' research with the new communication device I'm carrying around in my head, I know that my presence is badly needed. Something's up with Hicks, something bad. I haven't been able to raise him loud and clear at all in the past three days. All I got was a weird response, gibberish I wasn't able to make sense of. Images and words mixed into to a cocktail that got stranger by the hour. And when Darwin told me our marine had been lying dormant on his bed for the past two days, not reacting to any outside impulses, his skin hardened to some kind of chrysalis, I couldn't wait to get my behind off the stupid gurney. I know when I'm needed. I only hope it's not too late to reach him yet. And I hope the creature that will slip out of the cocoon will still be accessible to me… and some part of the old Hicks left in it. To say I'm worried doesn't begin to describe it. If Rogue only knew what he's asking of me…

            "Very good." I take a couple of steps towards the wall and back. "I guess you did it." I would have expected Darwin to look immensely pleased with herself, but the expression on her face is nothing but honest relief. "Thanks, Darwin. You rescued me. I'm sure Kurtz would have jumped at the chance to throw me away."

            Her smile tells of all the sleepless nights she's had since project "Xenomorph" started – many. She's only 21 years old, I remind myself. There's a point where even otherworldly-talented geniuses can't take the pressure anymore!

            " Ah, Kurtz… the bastard's just grumpy because his own branch of the project's such a complete failure. It must eat him alive we're making such good progress. We're making him look bad."

            _Are we making progress? Really? I'm skeptical. The wheels are in motion, that's for sure, but my take on it is that we're just along for the ride – we don't possess any control over the proceedings anymore. But I'm curious, since this is the first time I actually hear about Kurtz' progress – or rather, 'non-progress' – with the behavioral part of the project._

            "I take it he wasn't able to tame the xenomorphs, then?" I ask, coming to a halt in front of a mirror and checking my face. Rogue will be pissed if he sees this. My wonderful, elaborate Maori facial-tattoo has been messed-up considerably by Raven. The new flesh Hikahi put on the holes has nicely merged with the rest of my face and there is nothing left but a bit of swelling and bruising on the edges, but the detailed black lines are gone. I raise my hand to check the feeling with my fingertips – and look at the sorry remains of my left hand: It's blue and black with bruises and has a funny form… and it hurts. The sensation's still new for me, unwelcome, so I let it sink and use the other hand. In a couple of days, my face will look almost normal again. At least something positive.

            "Hikahi did a good job, I'd say," Darwin's voice comes from behind. "Considering that he doesn't like you, he put a lot of effort into it."

            "Just my luck." I turn around. "So, what about Kurtz?"

            "No, he couldn't 'tame' the aliens. Of course not. He was able to condition them to do what he wanted by threatening them with fire, but as soon as you removed the threat, the xenos had a will of their own. I was told he already wasted half of Skylar's pet zoo in the process. Skin _hates _him." 

            I retrace my steps to the gurney.

            "And you're, of course, overly sorry about his failure, boss, right?"

            I expect a gleeful expression, but to my surprise, she just shrugs.

            "Actually, I've had other things on my mind than worrying about him, Isis… not least of all you." She eyes my hand with dismay. "I'm having great problems getting the proper parts for you. I'll speak with some of the bio-engineers tonight to see what they can do, but if they can't help… we'll have to build these parts completely from scratch. This could take several days."

            "No problem. As long as you don't need me to wrestle with Raven again, I will get by without it for a while."

            "Maybe." She purses her lips, deep in thought. "But you should put a dressing on it, just in case. The damage is bad enough already, we don't need it to get worse. If your flesh starts to fall off we'll be in trouble." She wants to go on, but the alert from the Vidcom interrupts her. We turn towards the monitor simultaneously and see Kurtz' hawk-like face materialize there… as if he knew we were talking about him.

            "There you are, Darwin! I had been looking for you everywhere!"

            "Everybody in Lab 1 knows I'm here. I told them I'd be working on Isis this morning. What's the problem?"

            "You got an incoming call from Rosselli," he huffs. "He's been waiting for several minutes now. You know how he likes being put on hold."

            "Yeah, well…" my boss sounds vaguely annoyed, "it's not my fault. Put him through then. You know what he wants?"

            "He wanted to talk to you specifically."

            Only my bio-mechanical nature prevents me from bursting into a grin. How frustrating for the mighty Head of Operations to not be let in on the important dealings of the company! I wander over to the couch and make myself comfortable, hoping I won't be thrown out, too. 

            "Very well." Darwin takes a seat next to the screen and the next moment, Santiago Rosselli's handsome but serious face looks at us through some static interference. "Mr. Rosselli. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" She knows he wouldn't call her from God-knows-where if it weren't important.

            "Ms. Darwin, I need to know about the progress you are making with project 'Perfect Soldier' and project 'Human Bomb'. Everything you can tell me." He doesn't even say 'good morning'.

            "Uh…" Darwin wrinkles her brow, no doubt having picked up the unusual anxiety of the executive as distinctively as I did. "There's a lot. I'm afraid I cannot put it into one or two sentences, Mr. Rosselli. Can I send you the files somewhere?"

            "Just give me a clue as to what you have achieved so far," he urges, his face filling out the screen as he leans forward. "Have you subjected all test-subjects to the substance yet?"

            "The Corporal and Raven have each received their dose of xenomorph-DNA. You saw the Corporal yourself and Raven underwent the procedure three days ago. We didn't get around to the girl yet, since we first wanted to observe how the Corporal was taking the treatment. We didn't want to uselessly endanger our test-subjects in case anything went wrong."

            "How is Raven responding to the change?"

            "Well…" Darwin stretches the word and I see she's briefly looking at me out of the corners of her eyes, "- the way it was to be expected. Violent. He almost killed Isis. If I hadn't zapped him with the defibrillator, she'd be a pile of junk now… which would have been a catastrophe for the project." She waits for a reaction, but he doesn't respond. "So, I'd go as far as to say that Project 'Human Bomb' has been pretty much a success, if you take the ferocity and strength of the subject as the only measure."

            "You don't sound convinced."

            "No. We don't have the slightest bit of control over him. You could take him someplace in heavy restraints or stasis and drop him off and he'll wreak havoc, just as you wanted. But if the enemy doesn't kill him at one point you're going to have a problem with him yourself. Of course, we will have to see whether this is mainly because of his individual character traits, or if it comes with the xenomorph genes. The Corporal's been transformed over a week longer and he's behaving differently. But I'm not sure of him, either."

            "How is he coming along?"

            "Right now, he's entered a phase of dormancy, similar – at least from what we know about other examples in nature – to an insect. Or as the xenomorphs themselves when they enter a different stage of their existence. He developed a kind of… chrysalis and is no doubt changing under that cover. But we can't tell in what way, or how long it's going to take. The nanobots in his body disabled his PDT so we can't say what's going on in his body."

            A kind of morbid fascination plays on Rosselli's face for a moment before the urgency returns: I begin to ask myself what made him so anxious.

            "Anything else? Has he healed up? Did he do anything out of the ordinary so far?"

            "Quite so. His physique has vastly improved even before his current state: His eyesight increased – from what I can tell – around 400%. His skin is on the way to armor-plating him and his reflexes are about five times faster than before - judging from the games he's played. We've not been able to subject him to specific tests yet." 

            If Darwin expected her superior to be impressed by her short recapitulation, she's mistaken. The sudden lines on the executive's forehead are a sure sign of anger – although I wouldn't begin to know why he would be angry with us.

            "You haven't performed any tests on him yet? Damn, Darwin, what are you doing all day long? You know how vital this project is for Weyland Yutani! It's got to have the utmost priority for you and your staff right now! It's astonishing I should even have to point it out to you!"

            "Mr. Rosselli, with all due respect: You don't know what you're saying!" The so accused begins, angry herself, but before she can go on, he blows off right into her face.

            "Watch your mouth, young Miss! I know they call you a genius, but this doesn't entitle you to insult your superiors. You've always been difficult and condescending and I've already swallowed a lot more than I should have had to in the past because my time was limited and I couldn't afford to waste it ordering you back into line. But I'm warning you, Ms. Darwin, I am not going to take any more from you! Now tell me why you didn't do the tests!"

            I can only see Darwin's back, but her body language has thoroughly changed during Rosselli's outburst. Stiff and rigid, telling both him and me how much self-control it's taking her not to answer his accusations as she deems fit. Even her voice is tense.

            "Sir, my staff and I are working shifts around the clock to advance our knowledge of the species and our two test subjects and it is my firm believe we've already made great progress with the project. We only started work on it four months ago and-"

            "Four months, exactly," he barks, cutting her off again. "Four months and millions of credits ago and I don't have to show anything for it, yet. I can't just simply fork over the money for an unlimited span of time without seeing results. The company's rich but we can't afford to throw our financial resources out of the window, I'm sure you understand that."

            It begins to dawn on me what this is all about. Some of the big bosses stepped onto his toes.

            "_Without results?" Darwin sounds incredulous. "Excuse me, Sir, did you say 'without results'? In just four months we were able to produce hybrids from a completely unknown species! We-"_

            "You know perfectly well what I'm speaking of, Ms. Darwin! You're taking too long. You've got a 'human bomb' that poses a problem to ourselves, you've got a 'perfect soldier' you haven't even tested yet and Kurtz completely failed at making the xenomorphs jump through hoops for him. I can hardly call this satisfactory. The company's getting impatient. Someone with an I.Q., as high as yours should have been able to solve those problems weeks ago. We pay you and your staff a ridiculous amount of money and we blasted it out the windows buying Raven off the death cell and making sure the Corps wouldn't interfere with the proceedings on Acheron."

            "But Sir-"

            "I'm going to push my deadline back another four weeks, but in four weeks, I'll be coming to Phooka myself, along with some members of the board, you should be prepared to show us something by then. Something that will make all the spent resources look worthwhile, if you catch my drift, Ms. Darwin." The threat behind his words is unmistakable. "Do I make myself clear?"

            Darwin's voice sounds as if she had to press it through a mile of granite.

            "You mean you want the 'Perfect Soldier' and 'Human Bomb' ready for presentation to our clients by then."

            "We understand each other, then?"

            "I do understand you, Sir, but I'm asking you to please understand the fact that there is a high probability we won't be able to make this deadline. The nature of the problem being the human psyche. Both our test subjects are subject to an extraordinary amount of-"

            "Darwin?" He doesn't yell. He doesn't sneer. He sounds perfectly calm – and all the more threatening this way. "Just do it." His expression is that of a steel door someone just closed in your face. Darwin knows better than to try arguing again. From behind I see her take a deep breath.

            "I'll do my best, Sir."

            "If you had done so from the start, we wouldn't have to talk like this." A shadow falls over him and he's distracted by someone else. When we have his attention again, it's only for two more sentences. "I have to go now: If I can give you a piece of advise, Darwin, see to it that the members of the board will be happy with your presentation. Rosselli, over and out." The transmission folds before she has an opportunity to reply. For a long, leaden moment she stays put on her chair, frozen. I can't tell what she's thinking. But then she spins around and I see something on her face I didn't expect to ever see there: It's the look of someone overwhelmed by the sheer amount of work she's facing. Someone knowing she's facing impossible odds. Something dangerously close to despair. 

            My worry must be visible on my face because she gives me a weak smile when her attention returns to me after a moment of self-absorption. She never looked younger – like a scared teenager.

            "You heard the man, Isis. Let's get to work." She remains seated.

            "He can't be serious!" I try to comfort her, strangely touched by her unexpected display of anxiety. "He can't seriously expect you to have an army of 'perfect soldiers' ready for him in four weeks! This kind of research takes _years until you get anywhere!"_

            "_You know that and __I know that. I'm sure, he knows that, too," she admits. "But for one reason or another, it appears as if Mr. Santiago Rosselli has decided to axe me. It's obvious he's looking for a reason to get rid of me."_

            I shake my head slowly, unbelieving. "I don't understand it."

            "There are plenty of possible reasons. Apparently, he got some flak from the board because of all the credits he spent on the project. Who knows, maybe they were against it from the start and he promised them something impossible. Or he authorized it all by himself and didn't ask anyone and now the ground's getting hot for him; whatever it is, it looks as if he's making sure his bases are covered and someone else goes down for his mistakes – me." I don't know what to say. Who is supposed to run Phooka's science department if not Darwin? Kurtz? Please…! The ghostly, weak expression on my bosses face suddenly turns into one of grim determination while I'm looking on. When she finally continues and her voice mirrors the change. "I will not became Santiago Rosselli's scapegoat, Isis. We'll beat the odds, I know we can do it! Can I count on your help?"

            "Of course, Darwin," I utter, flustered.

            "Good. First, we've got to subject the girl to the test. I want you to talk to Dr. deJoria and find out how soon she thinks we can do it. We don't know yet how females respond to the substance and with her we'll be able to find out whether the effects of the treatment will be greater if the test subjects are exposed to them at a younger age, before puberty sets in. Then – what?" She noticed my expression. But I can't tell her what's on my mind. If she exposes the girl to the alien-DNA she'll inevitably grow her own transceiver – and Hicks will find out I've been lying to him the entire time! It would mean the end of our communication. The end of my mission. But I can't tell her that, because then I'd also have to tell her about that transceiver in _my head and the things I'm able to do with it! If – and this is a very big 'if' – she doesn't know about it already. So far, she hasn't mentioned anything, but if she worked on me for the past days…_

            I shrug, pretending it's something else I'm uncomfortable with.

            "I don't know, Darwin… the reaction to the substance is still very violent. We could very easily lose her."

            " I know and I can't do anything about it. If the almighty Mr. Rosselli wants us to do it, we have to obey, even if we know better. Please, go and talk to Dr. deJoria today. She won't be happy. She kind of adopted the little girl and to take her away from her will surely meet with resistance. If you want my advise: Don't even tell her what we'll be doing with her. Tell her – I don't know, tell her that Kurtz unexpectedly found it in his heart to send the girl home and she'll leave with the TerraNova tomorrow. She won't resist that."

            "What if she finds out?"

            "How could she?" Darwin shrugs, the gesture a sign of deep fatigue. "Even if she does – we can't begin now to care about the feelings of our minor employees. Lying to her will be the best course of action." For a moment, the old intensity finds back into her gaze. "Can I count on you, Isis?"

            I meet her eyes - and lie straight into my human sister's face.

            "Of course, Darwin. Consider it done."

***

            A quarter past ten. The day's almost over, the lights are low, the stars on the ceiling twinkling and the jaguar is on its nightly prowl through illuso-land as I walk down the quiet corridors of the living quarters. I can hardly believe the schedule I was forced to work through today after Darwin 'repaired' me this morning. For the first time, I wish I were human. They wouldn't force a human being to get up from his hospital bed and go to work as if nothing happened after a severe injury. I couldn't say no. I couldn't tell Darwin or Kurtz how emotionally and bodily spent I'm feeling after the latest incidents. The injuries to my neck and face still hurt and if I weren't able to shut off the connection to my left hand, I'd go insane with the pain. Pain… a strange, unsettling reaction. I wasn't quite able to fully grasp it when I first made its acquaintance on the flight-deck, when they hit me with those tazer-shots. But I'm getting better at it and I begin to understand Hicks. Feeling bodily beat is bound to get you down mentally sooner or later. The longer it lasts, the less you can take it. It's wearing you out and you start hating the ones who are responsible for it. No wonder Hicks was so aggressive all the time.

            Hicks… one of the reasons my schedule was so crammed was that I had to see for myself what was going on in his cell. Everything, from my own, unsuccessful attempts of raising him via the transceiver to all that Darwin told me, was screaming at me to get busy. To do something if I wanted to remain able to fulfill my maker's mission. But when I finally got down to his compound and saw this ... thing... lying on the bed, I felt for the first time a tug of despair. Despair... and yet some kind of morbid, reluctant fascination, I couldn't shake. The chrysalis wasn't opaque. It was nothing more than a thin, semi-transparent hard crust following the shape of his body. No gross, utterly inhuman changes. I could still see Hicks' sleeping features under that hard shell enveloping him. Sleeping with open eyes, devoid of expression. As if someone poured acrylic over him. Spooky. In some ways, it reminded me of an ancient sarcophagus. Except that its contents was still alive.

            I had to touch it. Carefully reaching out, ready to draw back at the slightest signs of trouble. I first placed my fingers, then my entire palm on Hicks' brow. Holding my breath. Feeling. Sensing. Probing. Reaching out with all my superior senses – plus my new one.

            _'Dwayne? Dwayne, come on, give me a sign if you hear me. I'm standing right at your side! Just blink if you hear me!' _

            Nothing. I leaned forward for a closer look and waved my hand in front of his face, but his eyes remained unfocussed under the shell, his mind apparently light-years away, God-knows-where. I tried to contact him again, reaching out with the transceiver, but all I got was this dark maelstrom of indefinable sensations, half-finished images and thoughts. 

'Dwayne? Come on, follow my voice! You need to fight her, you hear me? You can do it! Just follow my voice!'

No use. Wherever his mind was it was undergoing a drastic change and while I leave the elevator on Level 4, Living Quarters, I realize that there's no guarantee that the creature that will leave the cocoon will be accessible to us. If Hicks' human part is really gone, then what I'm about to do will be rendered meaningless. I'll be sticking out my neck for Rogue's mission in vain. But I can't afford to wait. With Rosselli pressuring Darwin like he is, it could very well be that my boss decides to take the girl from Dr. deJoria tomorrow. She can't afford to waste a single day if she doesn't want to make herself an easy target for the executive. I need to risk it. The way I see it, there's no way back to human-ness for Hicks without the girl. And no way out of Phooka. The two belong together, no matter what. There's no way of playing this safe. 

Pushing these uncomfortable thoughts aside, my mind returns once more to what I found in the marine's cell. How I raked my nail over the hard shell covering Hicks' forehead without being able to dent, let alone penetrate, it. I wasn't surprised. Darwin managed to take some samples earlier by using one of the tools we invented for handling the xenomorphs, but the cover was too hard for an ordinary fingernail. She also managed to set up sensors all over his body, even though she was hesitant at first of drilling into the chrysalis. Afraid the procedure could kill her most valuable toy. But we need the data. Only an overwhelming amount of information will be enough to satisfy Rosselli when he gets here.

            A brief glance at the readouts and gauges showed how much Hicks' metabolism had slowed. With his heartbeat down to five beats per minute and his body temperature lowered to room temperature – a measly 21°C -  he seemed to be experiencing some sort of hibernation. A different form of cryo-sleep. Realizing that there was nothing I could do for him, I then decided to no longer delay the inevitable visit to Doctor deJoria's habitat. It was time to get my first card on the table. Out of impulse – _impulse? - I knocked on his sarcophagus and said/ thought:_

            _'You hang in there, Dwayne, you hear me? You can't leave me hanging now. Things are in motion and I need you to pull through. Do the deed, marine!'_

            With these thoughts I come to a halt in front of Dr. deJoria's door. Knowing I'm about to take that first unforgivable step towards betrayal. It's the point of no return. How will she react? Will she believe me? Pushing my doubts aside I activate the VidCom next to the door. It takes a moment for the doctor's tired face to appear on the screen. Apparently, she was just about to go to bed.

            "Isis? What's the matter?"

            "Can I come in, please, Doctor? I need to discuss something with you – in private."

            Lines appear on her brow and one of her dark brown, long locks falls into her face. Absent-mindedly she smoothes it away. A brief look down, checking her watch.

            "What, now? Can't it wait until tomorrow?"

            "I'm afraid it can't. Please?" Until a few weeks back I would have retorted with a snide reply – now I'm the model of courtesy. I can hardly believe my own voice. The new attitude, however, seems to work because the door opens an instant later and I look at the real Eloise deJoria, who comes out, adjusting her blue kimono-like robe and looking at me flustered and worried simultaneously.

            "What is it, Isis? An emergency? Do they need me in Medical?" She narrows her eyes. "What happened to your face?"

            "I'm not important, Doctor, and this is not an official visit. I need to talk to you in private. Can I come in?"

            She motions me to follow her into her living room, nonplussed at my urgency.

            "Please…" 

She's living in the 'Countryside Home' illuso. The perfect illusion of wood, warm-colored fabrics and lived-in, comfortable furniture. A view of a dark red sunset over plains through one of the non-existent windows. I look around for the girl, but remind myself that she is probably fast asleep at this time. After all, she doesn't know what the gods of the station have in store for her. Good. I pushed this conversation back all day long because I didn't want her to be present. It will be hard enough to bring the news to the unsuspecting doctor, who motions me to take a seat on her couch now, nervousness written all over her forty-ish, slightly lined face. 

"I'm sorry, Isis," she adds, sitting down next to me, still nestling with her robe. "I was just about to go turn in, so-"

If she means her appearance, I couldn't care less. No surveillance cameras here. Good. I'm about to commit treason. Darwin would kill me herself if she knew. Somewhere in the far, far back of my mind, I feel bad about my betrayal. But at the next moment, I brush my concerns aside.

"I'm here about the girl, Dr. deJoria." She twitches, her body tense. I suspect she has been fearing for this for ages.

"Rebecca? Are you going to take her away from me? You can't! She –"

"It's worse, Doctor. Much worse." I don't know how to bring this to her in a gentle way. And maybe the gentle way would be wrong here. Maybe throwing her headfirst into the ice-cold water will be the most efficient way for getting the results I need. "Darwin wants her for her project." 

"_What?"_ Her eyes widen in stunned shock. Unable to stay put she jumps to her feet and starts to pace the room. "You mean for her experiments? She wants to run tests on her? What kind of tests? You can't be serious!"

"Unfortunately, I am. And I can't tell you what kind of experiment, but it's ugly, I can assure you of that." She pales. "Which is the reason why I'm here, Doctor. Darwin sent me to talk to you about taking the girl away from you but I'm not about to do that. Quite the opposite, really."

She comes to a halt, deep skepticism written all over her face. I can't blame her. What I'm about to tell her is so unlike the 'old Isis' I can hardly believe my own words.

"I'm here to help you. What I'm about to say to you must remain strictly between the two of us – nobody must know about it. If you breathe but one word to the wrong person we'll all deeply regret it.."

"What? What is it, Isis? You're Darwin's closest assistant – how can I know you mean what you say? Since when do you care-"

"Look, Doctor, I understand you're skeptical, but you don't have a choice. Believe me not and they'll come and take her away from you, chances being you will never see her again. What Darwin is about to do to Rebecca could very well kill her. But even if she lives through it, it will change her forever." My words knock the wind for a reply right out of her lungs. She looks as if she were about to faint. "Follow my plan and we may be able to save her. It's not a nice plan, either, but the only way I see to postpone the experiment. You'll have to make her sick. Very sick."

"_What_?" I don't know how she gets the word out without breath. It's not going well. Everything I just disclosed is going down deJoria's throat sideways, still sticking there. Her pale complexion and huge eyes together with the restless pacing can't be misinterpreted. She's one of the decent people among Phooka's personnel, I remind myself. She doesn't usually have to cope with the gruesome things Darwin's staff are handling. My words alone were enough to shake her up pretty good. "I don't understand a word you're saying!"

She doesn't want to understand. Denial. Very human. Suddenly, I'm able to grasp it. Is this where my new identity comes in helpfully?

"The procedure Darwin has planned is very demanding on the test subject. In order to survive it is essential that the subject is in prime condition. Darwin is very aware of the fact that it is a high risk to subject a child to it, but she's forced to do it. Rosselli's pushing her. But she'd have to postpone the treatment if the child were sick. And I don't mean an ordinary cold. In order to buy me a little time Rebecca needs to be earnestly sick… or injured."

"You don't honestly expect me to – to do this to her, do you?" She's getting angry. 

"As paradoxical as it sounds, it would be in her best interest. You would spare her a much worse fate, take my word. I'm aware you only know me as a cold fish who never cared for anyone or anything, but this was a cover." There, out now. I'm in the middle of putting my neck into the noose. A nasty voice in the back of my head asks me what I'll do if she doesn't believe me. What if I'm throwing all my big secrets at her and she doesn't comply? I need to be able to trust her! I can't let her walk around knowing what I'm about to tell her otherwise. Rogue beware, do I have to kill her then? "I'm on a mission, Doctor. I can't tell you my purpose, but trust me, I am not your enemy. I want to help you."

"How about… I mean – can't we hide her?" It's not an acknowledgement of my suggestion, but her tone is less aggressive and more worried now. I shake my head.

"Doctor deJoria, we both know perfectly well nobody can hide on Phooka Station. For a few hours, yes, maybe. If you deactivated her PDT, but even then they would find her eventually. With all the surveillance cameras in almost every corner, they would be able to trace her very fast, even to one of the few places where they can't see her." She knows all right. Frustrated by the sheer logic, deJoria picks up her pacing again, only stopping briefly to eventually throw the million-dollar question at me.

"Provided I agree to do it - what are _you going to do? What do you need the 'additional time' for? And how long is it going to take you?"_

"I can't tell, because I don't know myself. The situation is complicated and is getting more so with every passing day." A deep breath. I lower my voice to an even more confidential tone. "There is someone else I need to get off Phooka." I didn't want to tell her this part but, apparently, there's no way around it. And intuition – _'intuition?' – is whispering to me that telling her the truth – or at least part of it - is the best course of action. "He has already undergone the treatment and is in a big mess right now. He'll have to put in some real effort to withstand its effects and I'm afraid he's about to give up. But he used to have this great bond with the girl, from what I gather and with her help, or even just the mention of her name and that she's still alive, I hope I'll be able to influence him into giving it a try."_

deJoria comes to an abrupt halt in front of me, her eyes widening. "You don't mean the soldier she arrived together with, do you?"

"Yes, I do. He's a very important person."

"Hicks is still alive?"

It's a tiny, scared-sounding voice and its coming from behind! I whirl around and sure enough, the object of our conversation is standing in the doorway, clutching a teddy bear in her arms, her eyes huge. Apparently, she has been listening for a while already. There's nothing sleepy about her as her face lights up with an unexpected joy and excitement so great it's touching to see, even for an old bio-mechanoid like me. Things have just gotten a whole lot more complicated!

"Newt! You were supposed to be sleeping!" deJoria rushes over and kneels down in front of the girl, taking her into her arms, but she might as well be in a different universe. The child's attention is on me alone.

"He's alive? Hicks is alive? Really?" Her huge eyes beg me to tell her the truth. I nod. What else can I do? I don't know how much she heard. I don't know how good she can keep her mouth shut. Everything I planned is at stake now. Hell, what now?

"Yes, Rebecca. He is. Just like you. They told him you were dead, too, that's why he didn't look for you." I stop when I see tears running down her face. She's crying and laughing at the same time! Interesting. "He's not far away," I add, not knowing why. To intensify that look of utter, pure joy? I've never seen an expression like it on anyone on this station, not even Darwin when she made one of her break-through discoveries. I can't help but smile with her as she frees herself from her caretaker's embrace to come running at me. Just before she reaches the couch, however, she stops dead in her tracks. I realize she was just about to hug me, but now her distrust has gotten the better of her and her eyes scan my face to a depth I wouldn't have expected from a child. She's getting right past the black lines, really looking into me. A moment of silence. I let her examine me, praying she'll believe me. Now that she knows, my plan depends on her cooperation. I catch a notion of deep hurt when she finally turns back to deJoria, unconsciously strangling her teddy bear.

"You lied to me?"

"Newt..." The doctor straightens out of her crouch and wrings her hands, not knowing what to say. It seems to me I can hear the noise of the little girl's world shattering. "I had to. They said you two mustn't know about each other. They thought – I don't know what they thought. They probably thought it would be easier that way."

"They?"

"My boss... and Isis' boss. They're very mighty people… and they're not nice people."

"But – you should have told me. I mean, they wouldn't have known, right? You lied to me and I believed you, even though it hurt so bad." She sobs silently. I keep my mouth shut, let them handle things. This is between them. DeJoria moves closer, but the child takes another step away from her. Forcing her to stop. It's clear she doesn't know what to think anymore of her adult protector.

"Newt, I'm so sorry… I hated having to lie about that. I so much wanted to help you. When they brought you here, you were almost… you know…"

"Dead."

"Yes. Both of you. And then they told me what you went through on that planet you came from and said I should be careful with you. You were so frail and so scared and I felt so sorry for you, all I wanted to do was help you get over it. I wasn't allowed to tell you about him."

I can't tell whether she's satisfied with deJoria's answer when she finally turns around to acknowledge my presence again.

"Is Hicks all right? Can I see him? Please?"

I shake my head, inviting her over to the couch by sitting down again myself.

"He's okay for the time being, but I'm sorry, Rebecca, you can't visit him. That way, we-" I point at the doctor and myself – " we'd get big, big problems because we told you about him. Nobody must know, remember? As far as you are concerned you haven't heard any of this. You don't even think of him anymore, okay? You don't know he's still alive."

Her accusatory gaze is too painful even for me.

"But I _do_ know. And I think about him all the time. On the planet, he promised me he'd save me - and he did." She gnaws at her lower lip, apparently revisiting a scene in her mind. "He warned me about the alien and so it attacked him instead. He ran away so that it would follow him and I could go back to our hiding place and I did, because that was what he told me to do..." Her arms sneak around her sides, hugging herself. "But he didn't come back. I waited for so long and I got scared. I was so afraid it had killed him and I was alone again. So... so I went looking for him and..." She suddenly starts to shake as her self-control slips away. "I miss him so bad." Without warning she turns around to meet her foster mother's embrace, crying so hard she almost makes deJoria join her in her misery. Hell, I had no idea what I was getting myself into with this! Human emotions seem to be quite a powerful thing and I'm only just beginning to get the hang of them.

"It's all right, Newt. Everything's going to be okay again." The doctor murmurs reassuringly, rocking the girl and picking her up. Her eyes find me. "Isis will help us, right?"

"Right," I mumble, not sure at all. DeJoria comes over to the couch and sits down, her hand stroking the child's head.

"You said you wanted to get the soldier – Hicks – off the station."

"Yes."

"Newt, too?"

"Of course. I wasn't going to use her and then leave her here. I doubt I'd even get Hicks into a shuttle without her if he knew she was alive."

"Where you do want to go?"

"I can't tell you. Away from Weyland Yutani's grasp. Somewhere where they won't find them."

"Why?"

"Because that's my mission. I can't tell you more, doctor, I'm sorry. It's all I can offer you for now. Take it or leave it."

"Okay." She chews on the next bit for a moment longer and then throws it at me. "I'm in. But you take me with you." 

Oh heck! More complications. Can't things be simple for a change? I swallow. What to say? The look on deJoria's face is one of absolute determination. A human concrete wall. Every objection against it must shatter. 

"You want to leave Phooka, too? You'll never be able to work for Weyland Yutani again, you know? In fact, they will probably search for you. Things could get very dicey for you… dangerous. They can't afford to have someone running around who isn't absolutely loyal to the company."

"I know and I'm not." Her voice is firm. Interesting. I never knew Dr. deJoria wasn't 100% Weyland Yutani staff. "I never knew what I was getting myself into when I accepted this job. I'm sick and tired of being held captive on this station, Isis, and I won't spend my entire life on it. Just take me along."

"Okay…" Quite interesting revelations I'm getting to know in the wake of my actions. I give the promise not knowing whether I'll be able to keep it. It will be hard enough getting Hicks and the girl into a ship – and myself. The more people I'll have to juggle, the likelier the plan is to go down the drain. If things get too complicated I might just have to leave her behind. But I don't tell her that. "Okay, we have a deal then." Silence ensues, during which – I guess – we all realize the enormity of the things we've agreed upon tonight. I wait it out, until my opposite gives me a short nod and tells me that she's going to be right back, she just wants to put the girl to sleep again. I mimic her gesture, knowing there are still some things to discuss between us and that it would be better if Rebecca didn't hear them.

"Isis?" Still in her foster mother's clutches, Newt extends her hand to me. "Will you really help us?"

I reach out and give it a reassuring squeeze.

"Yes, Newt. I'll give it my very best try. And I've got a reputation of being very capable, you know? So sleep tight and don't worry." That's quite a mouthful I said there, but somehow I felt that she needed it. It's obvious from the little smile she gives me as deJoria takes her back to her room. A smile that tells me that I have her trust. A somehow supremely good feeling.

It takes deJoria almost 15 minutes to come back. I understand. Everything she heard must have gotten the girl extremely messed up. If she's really sleeping now it's probably out of emotional exhaustion and not because she's tired.

"I'm sorry, Isis, I'm a lousy host." My unexpected co-conspirator absent-mindedly smoothes back another strand of her hair. "Would you care for something to drink, or-"

I raise my hands. "No, thank you. I'm about to leave, anyway. I just wanted to ask you…" I take a deep breath. Let's get down to the ugly details. "Do you already know how you're going to achieve what we talked about? I may be able to be of greater help if I know how you're going to proceed."

A shadow falls on her tired face.

"I've… I've got an idea." Expression and tone of her voice tells me she's not feeling comfortable with it. The silence stretches and after a few long, leaden moments, I feel inclined to ask further.

"But…?"

"I don't like it, but I don't see any other way." 'Yes?' my gaze tells her. She smiles unhappily. "It involves the Arcturian Fever…"

All of a sudden I understand her. Arcturian Fever is still one of the most deadly diseases in the known universe. A fatality rate of approx. 75%. I don't doubt that the possibilities of defeating it may be higher here than anyplace else, but still… It would take an enormous amount of despair to go down this road. Despair… and trust. I exhale.

"You're working with the Arcturian Fever-virus?"

"With Kurtz and Hikahi, yes. We've made some progress, but we still haven't gotten the fatality under 50% in our rat population. The antibiotic's not even tested on humans yet. I'm frightened to even think about infecting myself with it… but it would be the only way to infect Newt with it, too. I don't have access to any other viruses. None that would do the trick, anyway."

I nod, face serious. "You mean, since there are no other possibilities on Phooka to become sick. If Newt gets sick, they know _you must be behind it. And the only way to ensure they wouldn't know you did it deliberately is to make them believe you didn't notice you were exposed to it yourself. That you infected yourself during your work."_

"Yes. Those are my thoughts. But I'm afraid of actually doing it, Isis." She stares me right in the face. "Deadly afraid." 

I don't know what to say. I have my own sinister thoughts about this. One symptom of Arcturian Fever are severe fever-cramps and delusions. What if the doctor and Newt spill our big secret, not knowing what they're saying any longer. Mumbling into the wrong ears. What then? I exhale noisily, then meet her gaze.

"But you will follow through, right?"

"Yes. I… I guess I trust you." Amazing. I must have misunderstood her. She smiles weakly. "You're a different person now, Isis. I didn't see you much during those last weeks, but you've changed. It's quite obvious. I got the impression it started with Alexander Saitchev's death… something happened to you there. I don't know whether it was because of Darwin's reaction or…" She shrugs and I'm flustered by her accurate observation. If it was that obvious for her, has everybody noticed it? Am I only thinking I can still surprise everybody here, while they all along have my number? A frightening thought. deJoria's smile deepens. "Don't worry, Isis, I don't think anyone has noticed. Certainly not Darwin. Kurtz maybe, but… he has other things on his mind these days. You've done a good job at concealing it."

"You think?"

"Definitely."

"I can't judge anything I'm doing anymore. Anything connected with emotions, anyway. They're a very … new sensation to me."

"I understand completely." Another smile. "Welcome to the perpetual roller-coaster, Isis. Even we humans don't understand ourselves most of the time. So why should you be able to?" We share the laugh and I can't help but wonder how I was never able to see what a decent person the doctor is. In fact, I barely noticed her at all. And now she surprises me with her observations, the fact that she kept her mouth shut about them and her confession that she hates being trapped on this place. She could have been a very valuable co-conspirator from the start and I never even gave it a single thought. But if she really exposes herself to the virus tomorrow she won't be able to help me. She'll be happy to live. In my mind, the promise I gave her carelessly gains importance. I don't want to leave her here. 

The silence stretches between us, until, at last, she directs her gaze to the clock over the door, stifling a yawn. The adrenaline flood caused by the unexpected agitation I brought along has subsided and it _is late. It's not only her who's feeling beat. _

I get up and turn towards the door.

"I think it's time I let you get some shut-eye now…" _'cause you won't be getting any more for _quite some time.'_ I hear her get up behind me and turn around, already standing in the corridor. A moment of mutual agreement between us. We're both on the same side. And we'll do what's necessary to come out of this victorious. Since I'm in view of the surveillance cameras in the corridor again, I tone my body language down to the rigid, controlled way I use during duty. It's only in my gaze where I wish Dr. deJoria good luck and I see I'm being understood. She'll need it._

"Are we clear about this, Doctor?" I ask in a bossy tone. A comedy for the cameras. Just to be on the safe side. She nods, her face taught. Playing along.

"Yes, Isis. Perfectly clear." The door closes in my face and I turn away, feeling satisfied. One mission accomplished. 


	8. Chapter 8

__

'Entry 388:

It's done. The first step towards an ending none of us can foresee has been taken, and it was Eloise deJoria who took it – and not a moment too soon. I was right when I suspected that Darwin wouldn't want to lose any more time with the girl, because two days later, I was sent to collect her from the doctor's place. By then, of course, the damage had been done. I saw it in deJoria's face when she opened the door for us, wearing an expression of hidden satisfaction - and fright. Since I wasn't alone, I couldn't explicitly ask her how she had accomplished the deed, but her curt, almost unnoticeable nod shortly before she went into her tantrum over losing the girl was enough confirmation that she had. She will start displaying the first symptoms of Arcturian Fever tonight, Newt by tomorrow afternoon. We know they are both taking a high risk, all the more since it is well-known that the symptoms can be somewhat lessened if the appropriate medication is given within 24 hours after infection, but of course this road is not open to her. As soon as she's tested after displaying the first symptoms, they would find the antibiotic in her blood and know that something was up. No, they'll have to ride the disease out in its ugliest form. I don't envy them… and I can only hope that my bio-mechanical body is immune against the plague which is going to haunt these corridors in the coming days. What if I'm not? As a cyborg, using real blood and real flesh should make me vulnerable to viruses and bacteria. I never got to test it. And only now does it dawn on me that Darwin never assigned me to any project where I had to deal with virulent substances, even if these researches are always in demand.. I suppose that means she doesn't know herself and didn't want to risk me.

What if Darwin gets it? A cold feeling prickles down my scalp. Of course I thought of the possible implications, dozens and hundreds of times. Okay, she is not likely to visit the girl before she expects to see her in Lab 1, and – despite the seriousness of the disease – it is not that easy to get infected with Arcturian Fever. The virus doesn't travel by air. It doesn't mean she can't get it, but maybe I can keep her occupied in the Ivory Tower for those first hours where the virus is still undetected. After deJoria's case becomes known, they'll put up a quarantine for 48 hours to see who else has got it, effectively banning the danger of having all of Phooka's staff infected. The problematic time span should be a couple of hours, and I'm confident I can keep Darwin safe for that long... unless I'm a carrier myself now.

I've got to make sure I'm not before I see her. I touched the girl when I brought her up to her little room in the complex. I stroked her hair and told her reassuring bullshit, knowing full well how bad she would be feeling in about a day, Her taut little face telling me that she knew, too. Yes, I could be infected. Even though I saw to it that I went through decontamination under the pretense of having to talk to Hikahi afterwards. It could already be in my blood.

The guards that came with me to fetch her – on the other hand – should be safe. They didn't come in close contact with either the doctor or the girl. As I see it, I'm the only security risk right now. deJoria will know better than to run around on the station. In contrast to most of the people we're surrounded by, she's a responsible person. I wouldn't be surprised if she already excused herself from work, maybe under the pretense of not feeling too well. I just hope she didn't get too close to Hikahi. Her's and Newt's chances of making it would considerably lessen if our most gifted healer joined them in their suffering. 

Once again the sheer thought of what could go wrong with this risky plan of mine leaves me in doubt whether I'm really doing the right thing. The path I chose to go down contains a great number of "if's". It could all go as planned, and it could just as easily all go to hell. What if – despite my efforts of keeping her out of the virus's way - Darwin still gets sick? What if she dies? I find myself unable to see it in my inner mind. Darwin's something like my human twin, so close to me that I tend to not even think of her as human anymore. Of course she can die. And if I'm the one to bring the virus to her…

This is a horrible thought. And there's another one, just as ugly, and with potentially more disastrous implications: What if I infect Hicks? He could die, too, and then? Or the virus could mutate in his body, becoming an even deadlier form, prone to wiping out human existence. Anything's possible! I would have liked to talk this through with Rogue. Maybe he would have had a better idea, but I don't dare raise him too often. Now that we're nearing the possible showdown each and every one of our conversations puts our plan at risk, each is a jeopardy to his 'great picture'. And now, it's too late to talk about it anyway. The disease will run its course and kill everyone in its wake and I all can do about it is watch and observe. I hate that feeling of helplessness. And I hate that feeling of uncertainty, of sitting here in Alexander's vacated room, waiting for the result of the test I managed to sneak out of Sickbay to determine whether I'm a host to one of the deadliest diseases known to man. And now his communicator springs to life, and I know they've found me. I'll finish this later.

"Isis? There you are! What are you doing in Alexander's room?" It's Skin, looking royally pissed. "Darwin's been looking for you all over!"

"Sorry, Skin. I thought I'd go through Alexander's files on Hicks and Raven again, see whether I missed something last time. After all, I need all the information I can possibly get," I explain in a casual tone. He shakes his head, cutting me off.

"Darwin's furious, and I've been wasting a lot of time finding your ass!"

"What's wrong?" Can't be deJoria. It's still too early.

"Something's going on in the soldier's cell. The camera just folded, and the sensor readings went belly-up, too. Darwin wants you to have a look. She'd go herself, but we're kinda busy with his evil twin right now."

Hicks – coming out of his chrysalis? His words electrify me, but on the outside, I manage to keep a cool expression. 

"What are you doing with him?" I remember I heard her talking about a sequence of tests she wanted to submit Raven to. Strength. Agility. Control. I hear some ruckus explode behind my colleague, as well as a violent tug at my mind, the voice/mind-touch, unmistakably the killer's, and I'm glad I'm spared the experience. My own bio-electronic nature has enabled me to quickly learn how to control the transceiver at a rudimentary level and I'm able to ignore Raven's tirade, I give Skin the nod he's waiting for. "Tell her I'm on my way." _'…as soon as I know whether I'm a danger to Hicks or not.'_

"She's got the communicator with her and expects to hear from you as soon as you're there."

"It's urgent, I got that, Skin." I pretend to stand up and sign off, then sit down again as soon as the scrawny bio-engineer's face has vanished from the screen. I take the microscope with my blood-sample and retreat into a corner where he can't see me in case he calls again. 

I barely dare to look through it. What if it shows me the image of my cells brimming with new, alien life? What if – 'Knock it off, Isis!'

I press my face against it… and feel a relief too great to feel comfortable. Nothing. I'm clean. For a moment, I allow myself to lean back and lose the painful tension that's been keeping me in its iron grip for the last couple of hours, in the back of my head wondering whether I was concerned for my own, bio-mech life – or the mission. 

The mission. Hicks. I roll back with the chair, feeling a new wave of excitement roll through my body as I activate the VidCom, calling Security.

"Isis here. I need five guards in the lab complex, Corporal Hicks' cell, in ten minutes." 

I hope I don't need them, but one can never be too safe. Who knows what kind of creature is roaming his room now? Is he still his old self? He can't be. While I leave my dead partner's room and make for the complex, I try to raise Hicks via the transceiver, just like I did in vain for the past five days. This time, I get an answer… a mishmash of half-finished, undefined images, raw, dark and murderous.

  
***

He awakens to a new world. A world of sound, of clicking, beeping, hissing and humming, all around him. Enveloping him just like the knowledge that _they_ are close, too. _His family_. All waiting for him to come into existence. Urging him to wake and claim the new life he's been granted. The hive-mind is watching him and is there to guide him through his difficult task in this new world.

A world of odors. Electrical emissions, tasting metallic in his mouth. The smell of fabrics. Conditioned, filtered air… and human flesh. The smell jump-starts his stomach. He's hungry. Ravenous, in fact! Half-starved! He opens his eyes – to a too bright world, a searing, hurting white supernova of light. He hasn't even completed the thought when it's suddenly dimmed to a level more comfortable to his sensitive eyes. And he sees: He's lying on his back, on the bed in a room so utterly void of anything, it triggers the device in his head into reaching out. Searching for the one thing he knows is there, even if he can't put a name to it yet. Concentrating, he closes his eyes again and leans back. Envisions his home, an unconscious smile on his lips. Something is happening around him, he can feel it. As for himself… it's time to get out, to be born. Time to shed the hard shell still surrounding him, the shell that protected him while he was in the process of 'becoming'. Time to get out and satisfy his growling stomach. Something's headed his way right now, he can see it in his mind… something living, breathing: prey!

I come to a stop in front of Hicks' door and motion for the guards to get into position. I hesitate and reluctantly realize that I'm afraid to enter. What if he's a raving maniac, more alien than human? He'd attack me instantly, and I don't know whether I'm up to it, stasis-caster or not. Pretending to collect myself for the task at hand, I send another 'inner' message out to him – and get an instant answer. They are no human words though, only notions of an overwhelming amount of sensations, too many, too new for his still dazed, re-constructed brain to make sense of. Most of all one that worries me even more: Hunger. The sensation of a hole in the middle of my body.

I raise my hand with the remote, knowing that I will have to be fast. A short, tense nod to the guards, whose expressions speak for themselves. They think I'm crazy. Maybe I am. But I don't want them to shoot Hicks if he really attacks us. The plan's developed too far for five idiots to ruin everything in a fit of panic.

The cell-door slides back, and I take a fast step inside. Before I can even take a quick survey of the room, there's motion at the edge of my vision, so fast it's a blur even to me! I whirl around, force-field activated… and see Hicks crash against it and come to an abrupt halt. Even though I suspected an assault, his sight is a solid shock to me: Although he appears to be still obviously human, the predator's there, as well, out there in his body language. Cruel, metallic-gleaming eyes directed at me without remembrance, without human emotion, only looking to bring me down. Calculating, waiting for the slightest mistake. Muscles tense, stance crouched for another go. He's in full attack-mode.

"Dwayne? Dwayne, it's me, Isis!" I yell simultaneously in words and mind-talk, mesmerized by the wave of savageness I'm greeted with. "Stop it!" Behind me, I hear the guards stomp into the room, their collective gasp and then the _'whoosh'_ of their rising rifles. "Don't shoot!" 

I don't dare to take my eyes of my opposite, even though I pick up the notion of massive change all around me. This cell –

"Leave. Stay outside. I can handle him."

A glint of secret amusement – I think – sparkles in the diamond-hard eyes in front of me, as Hicks raises from his crouch. Slowly. Still waiting for me to mess up. Starting to circle me. Looking for a weakness.

"Isis-"

For a moment, the hybrid's attention shifts to the men behind me, and I bet I can read his mind. _'Are they easier prey? How about attacking them?'_

"That's an order!" I can't handle both a mutated marine and five reluctant guards at the same time. "Leave, dammit! You just agitate him!" 

"I'm not sure-"

"Dammit, Sanchez, _leave! Now_!" They retreat reluctantly to the door. "Now close it! Guard the door. See that he doesn't get out. If something happens, call Darwin. But leave us alone for now!" Finally, the sound of the door closing shut. And silence. A deep, expectant, menacing silence, only accentuated by the omnipresent generator's hum. Hicks' attention returns to me, and mine to him. Finally, the moment I've been both dreading and waiting for. What am I dealt now?

The changes in his deceitfully human appearance are subtle, yet enormous at the same time: Outwardly, he's a mess of old, dried skin with parts of the chrysalis hanging in rags from his face, his neck, his entire body, together with rags from his clothing. Underneath, a new, slightly shiny skin with a gray hue can be seen. There's not a lot of it to see, yet, as he must have only just begun to shed his old hull when we disturbed him, but what I see looks almost like the skin of my early predecessors back in the days when they were just invented. Like an android. It's slick and wet, as if he's drenched in amnion fluid, his hair – I'm surprised he's still got hair! – plastered to his head.

It's the only bodily change I'm able to detect – apart from his drastically changed behavior. However, I _know_ this can't be all.

__

'Dwayne? Are you in there? Come on, answer me!'

His eyes stab into mine, pierce me, an inquisitive, demanding look in them. Confused I can talk mind-talk too, huh? Finally, a reaction. An answer. An image.

__

'You're one of us?'

'You know I am, Dwayne. Come on, you can't tell me you don't remember me! Where's your human mind? Erased?'

Again, a very slight, very nasty smirk in the left corner of his mouth, before he abruptly turns around and retreats a few steps, seemingly having given up on overwhelming me for now. Only now that I don't have to focus exclusively on him anymore am I granted the opportunity to notice the massive changes in our surroundings: Behind him should be the table and chairs... but I don't see them there, at least not at first sight. Only a change of my range of vision confirms I'm still in his cell, and that the additions and alterations I'm standing in are in fact illusos. Hicks grants me the time to admire his work, and the more I absorb the details, the more I feel a chill run down my spine. I know for a fact that this illuso is no part of our programming. It's incredible, awe-inspiring and frightening at the same time. The room I'm standing in - it's a virtual hive, no different to what the xenomorphs on level 13 are living in, only smaller... and more elaborate. There's no part of the floor, ceiling and walls which aren't covered in the holographic, but solid-looking, organic substance that the aliens use for their building material. So solid in fact that the usually bright, fluorescent lights on the ceilings are completely blocked, the only light being the faint bluish-white glow covering the floor. Even the all-seeing cameras are invisible behind the illuso-barrier! It looks almost too real not to be true. _And how did he do it?_

'Like it?' Hicks turns around again, a superior, almost arrogant expression on his face I hadn't see on his face so far. Right now, he's a complete stranger to me. Incalculable. Dangerous. I dare not switch off the stasis-barrier.

__

'Impressive,' I decide to play along. _'How did you do it?'_

'Nothing to it. Wanna see something else?'

Before I can answer, the walls grow toward me, the organic stuff spreading and reaching out with slimy tentacles. One starts to wrap itself around my neck. Again, Hicks looks amused. 

'_You want_ _to scare me? You gotta do better than that!'_ I keep these thoughts to myself and deny him the satisfaction of being able to anger me. And maybe he doesn't even want to anger me, maybe he's simply in the middle of exploring his new senses, playing with them like a techno-freak would play with a new high-end stereo. Or, to use a more fitting image, like a child testing abilities it just picked up.

__

'Very nice,' I dismiss his little magic show. '_But I'm more impressed to see that you still know how to communicate in human language. So you must still be mostly human, right?_'

He reaches up and slowly, deliberately, peels off a large chunk of old skin from his neck... and stuffs it into his mouth. Chewing it slowly, watching me. Oh yeah, he's definitely trying to have fun with me, but I'm used to gross sights, so he won't be able to get to me this way. 

__

'We're no more human than you are. Less.' 

'_We'?_ I wonder, but decide for once to ignore it. 

__

'Watch.' 

Without warning, he smacks his fist against the wall… _denting it!_ And busting all his knuckles! I don't flinch, even if I'm getting an impression of the white-hot bolt of pain he just caused himself before I can block his mind. What's even more disturbing is that I'm unable to detect that pain in his expression as he turns towards me, his hand dripping blood.

__

'Watch!' An ominous hiss rises from the floor, makes me hold my breath as I watch the holes spread on the floor. 

__

'Oh shit…!' Our problems have just performed a quantum leap. I didn't think he'd develop the acid layer… and apparently, he didn't. His system turned it into blood – a deadly mutation. And he's surely intelligent enough to use it to his advantage, to burn his way through sensitive technology as far as he needs to to break out!

__

'That look human to you?' he mocks me, turning his hand around to let me have a good look at it. And I see what he means: The burst skin is already closing, then he wiggles his fingers at me in a parody of a wave I can't miss the fact that his bones are mending themselves at this unbelievable speed, too. I'm mesmerized. Stunned. So stunned I hardly feel the vibration of the communicator in my pocket. It's a million light years away right now as I'm beginning to understand what a capable opponent the new Hicks will be to us with these self-healing powers and set of high-tuned senses if his human mind can't take control. 

All of a sudden I'm feeling very exposed and vulnerable in this room. If he wants to off me, he'll be able to do so any time once I switch the stasis-barrier off. And what tells me that he can't switch it off by himself with the transceiver in his head? Just like he altered the illuso? As if he were reading my mind, his attention shifts from his hand to mine. _To the remote!_ I can virtually _feel _him reaching out! I don't dare take my attention from him even for a moment to answer Darwin's call. 

__

'You can say or show me whatever you want, you still look mostly human to me,' I insist, just to say something, determined not to let him know how much his little show rattled me. _'I know you are._' He only smirks as a reply. I don't know what to make of it and follow his gesture, inviting me to look into his bedroom. 

Forcing me to divert a part of my attention away from him for a moment, I take a quick peek. It looks the same as this one... the alien illuso-design, the darkness. Another change of vision shows me that his bed is soaking wet with the same liquid that's covering him. Bits and pieces of old skin and shards of the hard crust, the remains of the chrysalis, lie on the drenched, torn sheet. The console behind the bed, the one Darwin hooked him up to to monitor his vitals, has been smashed and rains down sparks onto the mattress from a hole approximately 10 cm in diameter. About the size of man's fist. After Hicks' little show of power, it's clear what happened to it.

__

'Too much noise,' my host explains simply, following my gaze. Looking in the opposite direction, I see that he also smashed the camera in the right corner of the ceiling. The glass is gone. Entirely gone. There are not even shards of it on the floor. Did he eat it? The communicator meanwhile buzzes away in my pocket. I haven't got time for it now. I know what happens if I don't answer it soon – the guards will come in and there will be dead people; or a dead hybrid - or both -because they're naturally going to assume that something happened to me and will be ready to fire at the first sign of trouble.

'_We needed food_,' Hicks says evenly, as if it were self-explanatory. _'Still do.'_ He eyes me again with obvious appetite. I turn to him again. _'We're fuckin' starved! Get us something, or-'_

'What's the 'we'-shit, Dwayne?' I interrupt, puzzled, but at the same time mocking him. Poking fun at his display of superiority. '_Pluralis majestatis? Did she promote you to 'First Hybrid', or what?'_

He doesn't smile, doesn't laugh. And moves closer, his rigid body-language an unmistakable threat. I tense, uncertain about his intentions. 

__

'You think we're funny? You won't laugh once she takes command.' He comes to a halt in front of me and looks into my eyes with all the contempt he can muster. _'She knows you belong to them. You're shutting her out. You're not part of the stream. This makes you our enemy.'_

'And what about you? They're your family now? You think you're part of them?'

'She talks to us, so we're part of her. Yes.'

'And you don't think she's just using you to get off the station? Do you really think she could stand the thought of half-humans belonging to her hive? How naive are you?'

'You know nothing.'

'But apparently more than you. I bet she doesn't _grant you access to all her great secrets, right? Doesn't want you to know too much. She's keeping you dumb! I know what your queen wants from you.'_ I don't know whether it's smart to provoke him, but I want 'the old' Hicks back, so I need to rise to the challenge this _… thing…_ in front of me presents. The human part of his mind can't be entirely gone, it has to be in there somewhere! I'll have to force him to come out, to make a stand. He can't hide forever.

As if I asked for more complications, the door slides open behind us.

"Not now!" I yell, while Hicks spins around, ready for battle. "Get out! I'm okay. I just can't take the call right now!"

"Darwin said-"

"I don't care what she said! Get out!"

Silence. Followed by the rustling of clothes and equipment and heavy footsteps, as they finally follow my order. I allow myself one deep breath before I'm in the hybrid's focus again.

__

'You don't.'

Where were we? Oh yes, me knowing about his queen's intentions.

__

'You bet I do. She's not the only one who's been eavesdropping…' Now it's my turn to smirk arrogantly, even if I don't feel like it. _'The stupid bitch thinks she's the only one who can look into people's heads, huh? Well, let me tell you what she's thinking about you: You're nothing more than a puppet to her, a pawn! She'll use your special technical knowledge to free herself and then she'll kill you off, just like everybody else who's not entirely of her kind.. You're nothing but a tool to her, one of her drones. An extension of her body. Not an individual!'_ I actually don't know any such thing. My knowledge of the queen's deeper thoughts are probably similar to hers of quantum physics, because she knows how to block me too, but it sounds good. And Hicks won't know. He's trying to probe me, eyes reflecting in the weak blue light like a cat's in the dark, but I keep him shut out just like the xenos.

__

'It's what we exist for,' he then states surprisingly calm, peeling off another flake of old skin from his collarbone as we speak, not even aware of the action. _'To serve. We're part of the hive. She is the hive. So we're part of her.'_

'And this is enough for you. Being a part. A …a tool.'

'The same as what you are to the humans, ain't it" he rebukes acidly. '_To Darwin. A tool. A machine.'_ He grins wolfishly and steps closer, snipping the flake away. The first thing he says that actually hurts me. '_If you don't like it, maybe it's because_ _you're on the wrong side. At least our mother knows how to show us when she's satisfied.'_ He eyes my remote again. The grin narrows and becomes a calculating expression I like even less. _'What would you do if we switched that thing off?'_

I saw this one coming, and yet I'm not ready for it. I can virtually feel his hunger, his blood-lust flooding his predatory mind.

__

'You're bluffing." I take a step back, but he follows. Corners me. _'I'd call the guards in.'_

Another grin.

__

'You'd be dead before they could do anything.'

I know that myself, but if I back down now, I'm history. I need to counter his attack, bluff or not. With a last step back, I bump against the wall. Hicks also comes to a halt, maybe half a foot away. Both arms propped against the walls at both sides of my head, the metallic eyes hypnotizing me. He's got me where he wanted me. For him to be so close, the stasis-field must be – _off!_ For the first time in my 'new' life; I'm scared shitless. I wasn't even so scared during that fight with Raven. Because I didn't have the time then, probably, but this is nevertheless an unsettling new sensation. All the more since I'm not allowed to show it. Come on, Isis, think of something, dammit! Think fast!

_'Maybe, but you'd be dead, too. In fact, you'd already be dead if it wasn't for me! They would have shot you right when they came in. What would her Majesty have done then, huh? I'm sure she would have been pretty pissed at that!'_

'The guards, huh?' The moment stretches, until he finally straightens and takes his hands off the wall. Still smiling. A smile I don't like at all. Hicks turns towards the door. Casually. Calmly. _'Wanna see what your weak, slow guards look like when we're through with them?'_

No-no-no-no-no!

__

'Don't!' He walks on, unfazed. _'Dwayne! Don't! This is not the way!'_ He reaches the door. _'Dwayne! Come on, I know you're in there somewhere! You gotta listen to me! This is not the way! Even if you kill them, you won't get off the station! There's no ship for you to take!'_ He pauses, his head slowly turning towards me. Mistrustful. '_Your queen won't like it if one little, rebellious drone flushes her great plan down the drain just because it wanted to show off!_ _Isn't she supposed to be there somewhere in your head, yelling at you not tobe so dumb? Come on, listen to Mama!'_ Good one, Isis! It seems like I'm finally getting through. 

The next moment, I feel his presence reaching out – into my head! Probing for the truth.

__

'Shut up! You're lying.'

'Wanna find out?' I nod towards the door, still feeling his attempt to penetrate my mental barrier. I send him back an image. A sign. Mocking him_._ Fully knowing that I'm walking the tightrope. _'High-security compound. No visitors_ _beyond this point!'_. I doubt he likes my humor. _'My head's mine – in contrast to yours. Your head belongs to her. This must be a crappy feeling. And wanna know something else? I can read your mind, too!'_ I launch into a full-fledged Psi-attack. '_Dwayne, if you're still in there, listen! Don't let that maniac leave the cell! Even if he's able to kill the guards, you won't get off Phooka! There's nothing on the flight-deck except for a puny little atmosphere-hopper we use for trips to the planet. You won't be able to escape that way! You –'_

He crashes into me, smacks me against the wall with the full weight of his body, moving so fast he's reached me before I can react.

__

'SHUT UP! SHUT UP, BITCH!'

'Dwayne? Come on, where's that human common sense? You let this bastard rule you, he'll get you killed in the wink of an eye! Come on, we need a little intelligence around here!' 

Awfully strong fingers close around my neck. The other fist is drawn back for a lethal blow. I could fight him, but with one hand practically useless, he'd smash me. Plus I want the real Dwayne to come out. I've got to _force _him out! _'You see what he's doing? Stop it! You're smarter than this bastard! Stop him! If he kills me, you're ruining your only chance to-'_

'SHUT UP!'

'- ever escape! Dwayne!' 

The fist comes flying at my face like a jackhammer, and my own hand shoots up to meet it – but then it suddenly stops, so close, his knuckles actually brush my cheek. My fingers are closed around his wrist in defense, but he's doesn't move. Something in his head is stirring! Something in his face – is moving!

__

'Dwayne, come one, you're smarter than this! You can beat this – this thing! And you need to, because this is not just about you! There's someone else depending on you, someone you gave a promise to long ago!'

Stronger! He's coming out! The real Dwayne Hicks is still living in this body! A wave of excitement rushes through me, so strong, I don't think twice about telling him my big secret, even if I wanted to keep this ace up my sleeve for only the greatest imaginable emergency. But who's telling me that this isn't it?

__

'Newt is still alive, Dwayne! We lied to you when we told you she was dead! She's alive, and not far away from here! She knows about you, and she's counting on you! She needs your help, Dwayne, or she'll die – or worse, she'll suffer the same fate you do!'

His face – the cruel predator's mask on it – just melts away! His arms fall to his sides, limp, as if all strength was sucked out of him all of a sudden… and from one moment to the next, I'm looking into the face of the former Colonial Marine – and human being – Dwayne Hicks. 

"She – Newt?" No mind-talk. These are the first real words we exchange. I feel my mouth split my face in a huge, relieved smile. He's back! Maybe angry at me, but I hardly care. Irritated and confused, he takes a brief look of his surroundings before his attention returns to me, looking both shattered and overwhelmed with relief. "Where am I?"

"In your room. You decorated it this way."

He furrows his brow, even more puzzled. Looking like someone who came out of deep sleep to find himself someplace else then he remembers going to bed too. I wonder how much of my intermezzo with Mr. Hyde he witnessed from inside. By the looks of it he just came out of nirvana. 

"You want it gone? Okay." It's just one switch on the remote for me. I'm tempted to do it 'his' way, but haven't got the time to concentrate on it right now. A moment later, we're back in his cell. The irritating alien interior-decoration is gone as if it never existed. It seems to calm him down a bit as he refocuses on me.

"Newt's alive, you're saying?" His expression suddenly crosses the border into mistrust. There's more human emotion visible on his face now than during the whole time I spent with his evil twin. Confusion. Hope. Even if he doesn't dare to. "Why are you telling me this just now? Are you fucking with me?"

"See for yourself." And just like that, instinctively, I drop my barricade. Presenting the entirety of my mind and memories to him via my transceiver, knowing full well that I'm wide open to any other presence now, too. I don't feel the queen's mind right now, but if she comes back… Before I can reconsider, I feel Hicks go in there, searching, scrutinizing the information he finds – and it is an incredible feeling. I lack the words for a description, but it's a feeling of intimacy that takes my breath away. I relish it, bathe in it – and feel a sense of ache when he finally draws back, alarm in his expression.

"She's got Arcturian Fever?"

"We had to infect her because-" And again, his fingers grab my neck, cutting me off, only this time it's the human part of him doing it. _'Hear me out, Dwayne! It was the only way to prevent her from becoming Darwin's guinea-pig!'_

"You fuckin' lied to me! I knew it!"

__

'I had to! I was under orders! And I was a different person then! Can't you tell the difference? I want to help you, both, but you've got to let me!'

He stops. There's still pressure, but he doesn't 'dig' anymore. His expression tells me enough though. He's anything but convinced.

__

'It's all part of my plan for getting us out of here! You saw why we had to do it!' I want him to switch to mind-talk, since he's making too much noise. The doors are sound-proof, yes, but what if they suddenly come in and hear him? Hicks' eyes narrow, become sparkling slits and I'm worried that his fury might invite the predator back in.

"You infect her with a deadly disease to prevent your boss from killing her? What kind of a fucked-up plan is this?" He's furious – and loud! "You-"

"Ssshh!" _'Are you insane? Don't shout it around! There are guards in front of your door, if they hear you, we're done for!'_

He sneers – but releases me without losing any of the threat.

__

'Explain.' Another step back. Still tense. Not enough room to pass him.

__

'Darwin wanted to subject her to the xeno-genes tomorrow.' He pales. _'You see? We both know that she probably wouldn't survive the procedure. So I agreed with the person who adopted her to make her unusable for as long as we could. Darwin's under a lot of pressure to get this test done, but if she loses the girl, it would be a catastrophe. Arcturian Fever is the only virus we could use since it will keep her indisposed for at least three weeks. We need that time, Dwayne.'_

'Arcturian Fever kills people,' he states. _'And it will kill her! I don't want to buy time with her life! I'd rather die'_

'She won't die, Dwayne. Don't forget where we are. Our research with the virus has developed a long way. We're very close to developing a vaccine, even. I'm sure we can beat it.'

'Are you?' Very dry, not convinced. I squeeze past him, and he lets me pass. A short glance over to the still closed door. I remember I still have a report to make. _'You're taking a high risk.'_

"Yes, I am." I raise the communicator. "I've been taking them ever since telling you my real purpose, and I'm going to continue to take them until I get you and the girl out, believe me or not!" No answer. Very well. "Listen, I'm going to answer all your questions in a minute. Just let me talk to Darwin first, or the guards will come stomping in again. Okay?" He nods and slowly follows me over to the couch opposite my place at the table. Sits down while I type in the short number that will connect me with my boss.

"Isis?" Open concern in her voice. "Jesus – what have you been doing? I was worried!"

"I'm fine, and Hicks is fine, too." I look him over as I talk, see him furrow his brow once more while he takes in his surroundings with his new set of senses for the first time. It's clear to me I can hardly imagine the multitude of new sensations pouring down on him. 

"Has he changed a lot?"

"Not outwardly. He' still looking very human. But you were right in expecting him to shed his skin. Apart from that, I can't say very much right now, except that his human mind still seems to be working. Listen, I'm in the middle of talking to him. Can I get back to you later?"

"Sure." A deep breath on the other end of the connection.

"How's Raven?" I ask, feeling Hicks' gaze on me again. Seems we both felt the disturbance emanating from his hybrid half-brother.

"Calm, now that we've sedated him. He cost us a synthetic though. The son of a bitch is lightning fast. Apparently, he was waiting behind the door when we entered, and the stasis-caster didn't work. I'll have to look into that. If there's one thing we're depending upon, it's those remotes." I swallow. My memories of battling the killer are still very fresh. I know what it is to oppose him without the security of the stasis field. In Hicks' eyes I see the same question that entered my own mind. Did he switch it off?

"Okay..." I nod to myself. "Let's talk when we're both through. I'll probably need another hour or so."

"Come to my office at 1800 hours. There's a lot we've got to discuss."

"I'll be there." I sign off, staring at my opposite. "You heard her?" What a question. It's obvious his hearing has improved with the rest of his senses, so he probably heard as much as I did. 

"You're wondering whether Raven was able to influence the remote."

"What do _you _think?" I reach out with the transceiver, but all I get from the killer is incoherent gibberish. The sound of sedation, all right. Hicks shakes his head.

"No."

"Because...?"

"He's not yet developed far enough. He's behind me in his evolution. Right now, I could probably beat the crap out him. It's only a matter of time though until his own alien genes kick in. He's about to 'become.'"

"A full-blown hybrid, like you." He weighs his head and I understand. "A member of the stream."

"Yeah." A short nod in my direction. "What happened to your face and hand?"

"Raven."

He looks thoughtful, as if he were trying to remember something.

"Raven did that? When?"

"'bout a week ago?" My intact hand brushes over the new flesh on my cheeks. It healed up well, but of course the destruction of the tattoo makes the injuries very obvious. "What?" Hicks shakes his head to himself in disbelief.

"I dreamt about it... I think."

I'm not surprised there.

"It was no dream. You were there. Or rather, you picked up his sensations. Darwin told me you were very anxious that night, pacing your cell like a tiger. She showed me the recording. You must have felt it. You're connected to him, like it or not."

"Yeah... I guess." For a moment, his taut face tells me that my fight with the killer is not the only memory Raven made him a witness of, and I ask myself what else he made him see. What memories he had been sharing with his new half-brother. All his gruesome murders? Which only stresses the importance of what I have to say.

"Don't teach him, Dwayne. You need to learn how to block him. If Raven gets your knowledge, then we're all in deep shit."

My opposite stares at the ceiling as if he's never seen it before, deeply absorbed with his new senses. He doesn't respond. I can't help but wonder what he's seeing there. And I can't help but wonder whether I will evolve like him, too, in a few days. Shouldn't I start feeling something, too? Shouldn't my skin start to thicken on its way to becoming an active body armor? I don't feel such a thing. Is it just for living, breathing beings and thus not for me, since I'm just an imitation of life? A mockery? The thought stings, and I push it away with a huge effort. This is no time for self-pity. Or jealousy.

"Dwayne? You heard me? Don't teach Raven about technology."

He wakes from his absorption, still looking puzzled. So vastly different from the being I first encountered in this cell. An entirely different person. 

"I doubt he'd be able to influence the electronic kit, even if he picked something up from me. He lacks the understanding. He's cunning and strong and equipped with animal instincts, but he's a technical idiot. He wouldn't know how to influence your instruments, even after his rebirth." His attention trails away again as he places his palm onto the artificial leather of the couch, receiving data I can only guess at.

"Could the aliens learn it from you?" The million-dollar question. What if? Hicks cuts his eyes back to me.

"I don't know."

"You've got to keep it from them, too, Dwayne." The thought of the aliens overrunning Phooka while our technology shuts down gives me the creeps. "You can't let Her know." 

He stares at me uncomfortably.

"I can't block Her. There's hardly enough of me left to control this body."

"But you're in control now." I lean forward, intensity in my voice. "And you've got to stay in control. I can show you how to do it. All you gotta do is reprogram your nanobots into altering the transceiver in your head. Once it's altered, you can shut her out. She'll never bother you again." He shakes his head.

"Didn't you hear me? I can't even control the human part of me! I-"

"I'll guide you through it. It's not complicated. It only takes-"

"Hell, Isis, of course it's easy for you - you're a machine! You can access all your parts separately! I can't even feel this thing in my head, much less understand it enough to change it around!" He jumps to his feet, furious and frustrated.

"You altered the illuso."

"My other self. Not me. I wouldn't know how to begin."

I sigh and watch him pace the room for a few moments longer.

"What you wanna do, Dwayne? Sit around and wait for I-don't-know-what? You just want to let it come to you? I thought you wanted to help little Newt! Won't you at least give it a try?" The mention of the girl does the trick. He stops dead in his tracks, anger and frustration battling in his expression.

"What can I do, Isis? Tell me, really, what am I supposed to do from here, confined to this room, not even in charge of my own body all the time?"

"Like I said: First of all, you've got to learn how to stay in charge. And I already said that, too: I can teach you. Maybe it's not as easy for you as it was for me, but I don't think it's impossible! There's no reason for desperation just yet. In fact, with us being able to communicate via the transceiver, our chances have risen a good deal. They'll be here in a few hours again to replace the cameras you destroyed, so this may be the only opportunity for us to talk like this, but we'll still be able to communicate _without them knowing_! We don't even have to be in the same room! You gotta start seeing the advantages!" 

"It's kinda hard to see when you're up to your eyebrows in deep shit."

I can't have him give up now. Somehow, I've got to persuade him to make a real effort. While I'm busting my CPU to come up with a motivation, something to overcome the hopelessness he's feeling, Hicks' attention shifts away from me again, his distant gaze telling me he's reaching out with one of his new senses. He sighs.

__

'Get out of my head, Isis.'

'You're hearing me. That's good. Now follow my signal down, and you'll find the transceiver.' He closes his eyes, and so do I. Putting all my concentration into setting up a beacon for him, like a watchtower in the night. The moment stretches between us as we feel our way towards each other, the seeing leading the blind. _'Come to me, Dwayne. You can do this. Do it for Newt. You gotta learn how to use your new senses, and you gotta learn how to keep them hidden from Darwin, especially this one. Give her little pieces, little tasters of your abilities here and there to keep her satisfied. As long as she's satisfied with the progress, she won't submit you to any daring tests to extract answers from you that you don't want to give her. And you've got to make sure Raven doesn't tell her either. Do you hear me?'_

'Yeah.'

'Do you feel the source?'

'I'm... I'm not sure. There's something...'

'You gotta listen in on yourself. Deeply. Sense me. This is how we get out, Dwayne. We'll be able to plot without them ever knowing.' And suddenly, I know how to boost his motivation. _'Learn how to handle the device, and I'll be able to let you talk to Newt.' _He hesitates, and I pick up a wave of uncertainty.

__

'How?'

'I've got access to her. As a member of Darwin's staff, I'm allowed to see her whenever I want to. If you learn how to work the transceiver, you'll be able to see through my eyes. And I can tell her whatever you want me to say.' His presence is getting closer. _'You're almost there. Feel it!'_

'I – " Very close now! _'I got it!'_ Excited. _'I got it!'_

'Now-'

My voice is drowned out by a sudden signal so powerful, it almost bursts the top my skull. My firewall comes up, but a fraction of a second too late – I can feel the nanobots in my body react to the queen's commands before I'm able to shut her out. 

Suddenly thrown back into the reality of Hicks' cell, I find myself on my knees next to the table, both hands holding my head in an attempt at keeping it from exploding. She's gone, her signal blocked, and yet I know what she did to me: She sent me a virus!

Uncertain whether she succeeded or not, I look up to Hicks – and find the predator's stare on me again. Our eyes lock for a fraction of a second. And then the pain starts! The 'bots – she ordered them to tear me apart!

__

'Get up! Move!' Hicks' voice. 

Somehow, through a cloud of agony, I pick myself up, throw myself forward towards the door, not bothering to look back. The door slides open, but he's right behind me. A sudden, violent tug at my back, the sound of fabric ripping – and then the steel slams shut between us, cutting off his angry scream. I don't hear anything – I'm in a world of hurt, feeling my flesh disintegrate.

The velocity of my final jump smacks me into the opposite wall, and the impact is hard. But nothing compared to the pain I'm already in: a feeling as if someone injected acid into my veins!

__

'Stop it! Stop it!' I launch into machine-talk, binary data, although I'm hardly able to concentrate anymore. The virus – the commands the queen fed to me... I gotta undo it fast, or I'm history!

"Ma'am?"

I hardly hear Sanchez' voice through my agony, the white-hot inner fire that's eating me from the inside – when it suddenly stops. Gasping, I sink to my knees, feeling the cool metal of the wall on my bare back. 

"Isis? What is it? Are you all right?"

I look up and see the big, tanned face in front of me, the puzzlement in the brown eyes, even a hint of worry. Surely not for me personally. Just for his mission. Darwin would skin him alive if he let anything happen to me. Finally, I've recovered enough to answer.

"Yes, Mr. Sanchez, thank you. Just a little shocked." He does what I expected him to do and launches into his tirade about me insisting on talking to Hicks alone, about my stubbornness and superiority complex, and God-knows what else. I hardly listen to him and just don't care. Something else is on my mind, something more pressing: I fought off the queen's attack by myself, but I could nevertheless have been history if I had been just the wink of an eye slower to leave the cell. The hybrid would have killed me. I know why I'm still in one piece: Hicks bought me that moment. For a moment, while the predator was seizing command over his mind again, he was fighting him, opposing him. Saving my life.

"-ding."

"Huh?" I look up into the guard's concerned face:

"I said, you are bleeding." He touches his own face under his nose. I imitate his gesture and see blood on my fingers. And smile reassuringly, at the same time accepting the big hand he's offering me to pull me to my feet.

"Must've bumped it against the wall." I shrug, rubbing my nose. "It's nothing." The five men don't look convinced.

"You sure you're all right?" the big Latino repeats. I nod.

"Don't worry. I'm as tough as they come." Despite the unpleasant outcome of my visit, I nevertheless feel a first slight spark of hope. It's a start. I need to be more careful in the future, but Hicks is on the right way. That first, important moment he resisted the predator indicates to me that he can do it. It's not an impossibility. He knows now what to look for. He knows what the transceiver feels like. He had no problems using it for the mind-talk, but understanding it and altering it will be an altogether different thing. Something he's still going to need my help with. As much as I dread it, I've got to get back in there and assist him.

"You look pretty shaken up to me." Sanchez moves closer, wearing an expression of both worry and contempt. "That was a foolish thing to do. And you're not going to repeat that stunt on any of my shifts, understand?" His expression has changed from concern to open anger, now that he knows I'm basically okay. Wants to prove he's still the boss with his men looking, huh? I meet his gaze.

"We'll see, Sergeant. I do whatever's necessary for the project. If Darwin orders me back, then there's nothing you can do about it." I readjust my jumpsuit as if nothing happened and feel a cold rush of air on my back. Reaching back, my hand touches bare skin. The five men in front of me shake their collective heads.

"And you would go. After what just happened to you, you'd still go in there!" This confirms it: He's officially written me off as insane. Whatever. 

"Sure." I shrug and turn to go. "Orders are orders." I leave them standing, longing for my quarters, for someplace quiet and peaceful. 

"In case you haven't noticed, Miss Isis," Sanchez yells after me, "- you're damned lucky you're still alive!" 

__

'Yes, Mr. Sanchez, I'm stupid. I actually didn't get that!' I don't honor his words with a reply.

"Next time the bastard tries something, we shoot him. Darwin can't be serious about keeping this freak for a pet!"

Okay, _this_ I'll have to answer to. 

Coming to a halt in front of one of the elevators 20 meters further down the corridor, I look back at the small, heavily armed squad and make my voice loud, calm and official.

"Darwin's orders are clear, Sergeant. And they're orders issued by Santiago Rosselli himself: The subject is not to be touched or harmed, especially not by dumb-ass grunts like you. You and your men stay here and guard that door until your relief arrives. Nobody goes in, and see to it that he doesn't get out. You only fire in the case of an emergency. Anything else will get you into more trouble than your little mercenary brain is able to imagine just yet. Are we clear about this, Sergeant Sanchez? Or should I tell Darwin you've got problems with her orders?" His eyes throw little daggers at me, but his voice is low when he answers.

"No Ma'am." 

"So we're clear?"

"Yes, Ma'am." I swear I can hear his teeth grinding. 

"Very well. I'll leave you to your duty then and get changed into something a little less ventilated, and then I'm going to be at Darwin's office for my report. Anything happens, you either get me on the communicator or there."

"Yes Ma'am."

I give them a curt, official nod and step into the elevator, inwardly initiating a first systems check. Hoping my rampant nanobots didn't do too much damage.

***

She got her! She got her! Finally, all her patience, all her waiting and learning and holding back has paid off! A deep satisfaction runs through the queen. She finally understands the enemy enough to set up traps and lure them in. In this case, retreating into the background, pretending to be gone and momentarily releasing her hold on the one specimen that holds the key to their escape just long enough to convince this other creature, the one she's uncertain about, that it was safe to let its protective wall fall. 

She knew she needed to be fast once she acted, knew the barrier would be reinstated in a millisecond as soon as she let her presence be known, and so she waited against her own instincts when the mind-block finally faded away and the creature's memory store lay there wide open for her to use. She didn't pounce, instead diverted her full attention to the nanobots in the enemy's body. Their feel was different from what they should have felt like, their signals garbled and unreadable after the modifications they had undergone, and yet she knew that they would respond to what she had prepared for them after countless hours of observation. She was ready to deploy the deadly orders, and yet she waited some more. This being was clever, and even though it had dropped the barrier, it would be extraordinarily watchful for signs of her during the first moments of its mental vulnerability. It would shut the door it had opened to her at the first sign of trouble.

And finally, what the queen had anticipated, happened: Her half-drone came into play and occupied the enemy's attention, and for the fraction of a second, the entrance was left unguarded. She released the deadly stream. For a moment, she could feel the being's response, its shocked surprise travelling to her through the still open transceiver – and then the door slammed shut. But too late, the payload had already gotten through, and now it was time to finish this thing off!

Seizing the hybrid's body; she saw at once her enemy down on the ground, on its knees. She pounced – and her host disobeyed! Not a muscle moved as the creature she aimed to kill now looked up to her, the body she occupied frozen to the ground, withstanding her will, and she screeched and boosted up her signal to the maximum, unaware of her surrounding drones responding to it, too, only seeing that the creature was on its feet again, almost out of her reach. One desperate last attempt, a mighty discharge of all available energy into the hybrid's leg muscles. Its claws getting a grip on the creature's back – and then being forced to withdraw when the steel barrier slammed shut between them. 

She screeches once more, furious; emitting a wave of rage and bloodlust that sends her drones tearing into the hive's walls, slamming their claws into the organic material, tearing, ripping, reeling with the energy of their matriarch's outburst. Failed, she failed! Maybe the nanobots will finish it off nevertheless, but the creature is cunning, as it seems just as cunning as she. It will find a way to undo the virus, she's sure about that. The trap has been sprung, the prey jumped it. It will be infinitely more difficult now to lure it into another one. 

Her swishing tail spears a drone tending to one of her eggs behind her and passes the wriggling body forth to her four strong limbs. Holding it, she buries her face in the mixture of organic and dead matter. If she still wants to win this, she'll need to grow further enhancements, enhancements she can only build with the material her drones consist off. Even as the first bits of her former servant pass her digestive system, she knows that one won't be enough...

***

The sparse functionality of my room greets me when I reach it 20 minutes after my almost fatal screw-up. It looks the same as usual, bleak, void of personality, and yet it feels like a sanctuary. Comforting, familiar. Peaceful. I need these vibes now. My old self would have neither cared nor longed for them, nor would it have had any understanding about the different feelings to a room. I must be more human than machine by now. 

__

'And alien. Don't forget about that side of you!'

I delete the thought as I walk towards my desk, too tired and too worked up over the latest incidents to be able to put further energy into it. Being one of them frightens me to a new extent since I saw what became of Hicks. Yes, his real personality's still in there, but even though I tried to spread optimism in his presence, I'm deeply skeptical. This other side, it's too powerful. Too savage. To me, it's only a question of time when the human part will be erased permanently. Darwin created a fearsome creature, a combination of alien strength and ferocity and human shrewdness and intelligence. How can she hope to be able to control it? How can she hope that her test subject will be able to control it?

__

'If I can do it, so can he! It's not impossible! Can the shit, Isis! You always knew this wouldn't be easy.'

My inner admonishment doesn't convince me like it used to. The cold, hard voice of logic is still there, but with the irrational, emotional human side of my personality growing stronger with each passing day, it lost most of its power. 

Longing for a shower and some rest, I nevertheless activate the communicator first to send some food Hicks' way by way of the dispenser in his cell. I didn't forget he's hungry. After five days of nothing and the changes he underwent, it's hardly surprising. I just hope he'll remember how to use the gadget. I sure don't want to play waitress for him. 

Throwing the stasis remote onto the desk and myself into the chair, I try to focus. What should I order for Hicks? Human food? Coffee, bread, eggs, fruits? Or live rabbits? Food with an entertainment value for hybrids? A workout for the body-conscious predator – hunt your food, _then_ eat it? _'Geez, Isis, get a grip_!'

My fingers hover over the keyboard. I'm distracted. Staring down at the remote. Asking myself whether Hicks was really the reason why it didn't work. A scary thought, but one I accepted without thinking twice in that situation. But he _could_ have been bluffing, right? Maybe he just sensed it didn't work and played it out? After all, didn't Darwin tell me hers didn't work either, and this even though Raven wouldn't know how to switch it off, according to his hybrid half-brother? 

I pick it up and turn it around in my hand. Depress the button. Nothing happens. Nothing activates around me. No little light turns on telling me that it's working as it should. Dead like a rock. Which brings me to my next question while I open the cover and remove the energy cell for another check. 'Did Hicks do it? Did he somehow break it, or suck out the energy, or…? Sure enough, the cell's empty. Admitted, it's strange – and very convenient for him – that it apparently gave out during our little rumble, but was he really responsible for it?

Frustrated by the thought of the possible implications, I lay the remote down again and focus on the task at hand. Send him food. Without further ado, I select for him coffee, water, bread and an artificial steak with likewise artificial vegetables. Let's him choose what he wants. A final hit of the 'enter'-key concludes my communication with the autochef. Time for the VidCom. There's something else that needs to be taken care of before the shower. Urgently. Punching in the 3-digit number for my artificial brother Samuel, I lean back in my chair. Last thing to do before the shower. _'Come on, Sam, where are you?'_

His broad, unexcited features appear on the screen a few moments later. It's his downtime, I realize, knowing in the back of my mind that we synthetics are never on real downtime. Something comes up, we're the first they call to fix it. And now I myself am breaking into his privacy. Hell, I'm really becoming human! Only I don't trust any other with the assignment I have to hand out.

"Isis. What is it? You look... strange." He narrows his eyes in programmed concern.

"Listen, Sam, I need you to do something for me. You think you can help me out?"

"Depends on what you want." Truly synthetic. No complaint. No 'Do you know what time it is?'. We're so much easier to handle. So docile.

"It's a special mission. It's dangerous. But you're the only one qualified to do it."

"Flattery, huh?" He smiles. "You know very well we synthetics can't be bribed with that."

"It's not flattery, it's the cold hard truth. The corporal came out of the chrysalis just an hour ago, and the first thing he did was flatten the cameras in his room. I need someone to replace them. Someone who'll be able to focus on the task and not panic when he's in the same room with a half-alien. Think you're the one?"

He stares at me.

"He came out? What's he like?"

"Unpredictable. Look, there are five guards in front of his cell on patrol. Order five more if it makes you feel more secure, and take them into the room with you. Don't use the stasis-caster. Darwin just had an accident with one, they're unreliable until we've tested them out. Use the in-built force-field in the room and confine Hicks to a corner until you're done. Don't take any risk. If anything happens to you, the guards or to him, Darwin will be very unhappy. That clear?"

"No problem. Sounds easy enough."

'Let's hope you're right, Sam!'

"Should I go right now?"

"The sooner the better. We need to keep an eye on him."

"All right. I'm on my way." His face is replaced by a picture of his waist as he gets up. "I let you know when I'm done, okay?"

I lean back, running a hand over my face and close my eyes.

"Thank you, Sam. You're a great help."

"That's what we're there for, aren't we?" 

He signs off and I sit on my chair for a moment longer, feeling the tension come back. I don't like my latest discovery. I'm no longer a computer on legs, I'm a person, and I am very afraid. Afraid we're in here way over our heads. Afraid Rogue's plan will ultimately fail because I can't dare to bring him the corporal. Right now I couldn't possibly, in good conscience, take him with me, even if Darwin would let us go. He's dangerous and unpredictable. One minute his old self, a feral, deadly predator the next. I can't set him loose. Not until he comes around. Which reminds me of another fear, one that's probably the strongest torment right now: I'm horrified to go back into the stream. I know Hicks needs me in order to modify himself to a point where he can withstand the queen's control, but she's waiting for me in there. Her trap was clever and her delivery flawless, and I only got out of that cell because the human part of Hicks bought me that precious second. He saved me there. And, as much as I would like to contact Rogue right now and tell him he should go looking for other possibilities to bring down the company, since this one's too risky – I can't. I owe Hicks. And Newt. And deJoria. Rogue. They're all counting on me. I can't walk away from them all. I can't leave them hanging. My new human personality won't let me.

Too frustrated and too tired to continue with this train of thought, I get out of my torn jumpsuit and underwear and hit the shower. I got two hours before Darwin expects me in her office over at the Ivory Tower. Two hours of mental standby to be had. It sure sounds inviting.


	9. Chapter 9

__

For Disclaimer, please see Chapter 1 (in short: The Alien-universe belongs to Fox. I'm just borrowing it for my entertainment).

Huge thanks go again to Anise for her great help with this story!

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Dwayne? I didn't forget you, in case you were suspecting it. There's something for you in the food-dispenser. Just help yourself."

A female voice crackles into Hicks' cell over the speakers, and he recognizes it as the android's. Half-android's, he corrects himself a fraction of a second later, and then, another fraction of a second later, again: Part-android, part-human, part-_us_. Hard to believe she's really one of them. Why does she reject their mother? Why does she help their captors? A long, pensive gaze at the piece of fabric he ripped off her back 45 minutes ago. He can smell it from here, three meters away from the door where it's lying, partly caught under the steel. Food. She said there was food for him. Time to check it out.

Five minutes later, he's sitting at the table wolfing down the steak after throwing down the mug with the stinking brown liquid, when suddenly the force field activates, confining him to the table and the far corner of the room. Still chewing, he turns his head just in time to see three heavily armed guards enter, their bright blue bio-electric auras disturbing the peaceful darkness of his hive. Wait, there's another one! Missing the aura, which is why he didn't see him at first. A casual scan identifies the man as android. Narrowing his eyes in deep thought, he chews on. Not good. Why do they show so poorly in his vision? A run through his different ranges of vision no change. Definitely not good. Potentially dangerous. He'll have to ask Her what to do about it.

****

"Hey filth!" One of the guards steps up to him, his smell giving away his fear even through the force field. "You stay put, got that? You make just one move, we grease you. Clear?"

Calmly, Hicks takes another bite, not bothering with table manners as he takes the meat into his hands and buries his teeth in it. Not bothering to answer.

"I said: Are we clear, scum?" Obviously, the big man's not used to being ignored. He moves closer, comes to a halt in front of the energy barrier. "You got ears, don't you? They working? " Nothing. He shakes his head and wrinkles his forehead. "What's this shit anyway? Let's get some fuckin' light in here!" An all-encompassing gesture. 

Doesn't like his home, huh? A moment later, the bright lights come back on as the illuso is switched off., forcing Hicks to close his eyes against the blaring whiteness. 

"It stays this way, understood? What are you, a friggin' zombie, man? Geez, just look at you!" The man stares down on him, obviously meaning his ripped and hanging clothes and flakes of old skin he hadn't cleaned off himself so far, waiting for a response, but when Hicks continues to ignore him, he turns around to watch what his comrades are doing. The synthetic's in the adjoining room, apparently fixing the camera there, while the other two guards have taken their position left and right of the door, watching him. Curiously. With hidden disgust. With a blank expression, Hicks raises the steak for another bite, secretly amused over the fascinated faces. 

"Sam, how long's this going to-"

__

'BAM'! Dark again. Beautiful organic design on the walls, slight illumination from a transparent mist on the floor. Home, sweet home. He swallows. In front of him, the big guard raises the remote, his back still on Hicks. Muttering. Cursing under his breath.

"Now what the fuck…?'"

Light. The naked room again. The gaze of one of the men over at the door on him, probing. Hicks gulps down a swig of water, indifferent, not looking back. Not giving away his silent amusement. Their leader once again slightly shaking his head to himself and proceeding into the bedroom. 

__

'Bam!'

"Fuckin' hell!" From his place at the table, Hicks sees the big man twitch and stare in confusion at his remote, shaking it. "Stupid thing's not working! Why's it always switching back?" His aura brightens as he becomes increasingly agitated.

Very rewarding. Best entertainment he's had in weeks Hicks concludes as he watches the spectacle unfold, calmly downing the rest of the steak and even some of the bread, but it's too dry and not too his taste, and so he unceremoniously spits it out.

"Sir?" One of the guards at the door chimes in, pointing a finger at him. "I think he's doing it!" In the bedroom, Sanchez turns around to stare at him. "Look at him! He obviously knows what's going on. Maybe he's doing it himself! He's got a remote, doesn't he?" The man takes a step towards him, but one gesture of his leader freezes him in his tracks.

"You think that's funny, asshole, don't you?" Sanchez comes to a stop right in front of the table. Right in front of the barrier. "Lay the remote on the table and move back."

Hell, this is getting better and better! Without granting the big man a single look, Hicks pushes the empty dish in front of him back and slowly starts to lick the last remains of the meat taste off his fingers, one by one. The human's aura flares up to a blue so bright, it's almost white. The others play mute, but their bio-electric readings show Hicks they're not exactly relaxed, either. 

Suddenly there's a thick tension in the room. An atmosphere so electrified, it feels as if it could ignite as soon as one of the present occupants of the cell made a wrong move. Hicks feels it and revels in it. They're afraid of him! How amusing. He checks his hands again. They look clean now.

Open anger sparkles in the big Latino's eyes now as he picks up the provocation, the notion of being ridiculed. Hicks can't help but smile ever so thinly, knowingly. A '_what you're gonna do about_ _it?_' smile. Because it's clear to him he's free to do or say basically everything he wants – they dare not switch of the force-field between them. He folds his hands on the table and waits, pretending to follow the synthetic's efforts in the next room. Calm. Muscles relaxed, but ready to go from zero to 100 in a flash. Sanchez frowns, not being used to have his orders ignored.

"Did you hear me, asshole?" Nothing. "I said, put down the remote and-"

"- move back. Yeah, I heard you." Finally choosing to acknowledge his presence, Hicks holds up his hands and wriggles his fingers. "Nothing there." He hears the other two men uncomfortably shuffle their feet behind his opponent.

"Stand up," the big man barks at him. "Move your ass, or I'll make you, freak!" 

__

'Your men are watching, huh?' Hicks thinks. _'Can't afford to lose authority here, right?'_ It's his human mind speaking to him, sharing its experience, communicating with the alien side, and it's listening intensely. Soaking up what's there to learn. Let's see how far he can take this game. He slowly rises to his feet and follows Sanchez' gaze to his empty seat – and back to the man's face.

"Nothing there, either."

The guard fumes, his aura a lively, bright blue-white vapor. Appetizing. He raises a finger and points it at Hicks.

"Listen, I don't know what's going on here, but I know you're triggering this somehow. You do that one more time, we're gonna teach you some fuckin' respect, got that? I don't care what Darwin says, it's about time someone educated you. Just to wipe that insolent grin off your face! We won't kill you, don't be afraid. Just teach you a lesson." He rises his tazer-gun and fires a bolt of energy into the wall, cocking an eyebrow. "Wanna get to know this interesting piece of technology up close and personal? Or do we understand each other now?"

Hicks' grin broadens at that, obviously less impressed than his opponent wants him to be, his eyes holding the other man captive. Finally, with an angry snort, Sanchez turns his back on him again. "Hurry up, Samuel! We ain't got all day! Wasting my time for this freak pisses me off. I-"

__

'Bam!'

"Fucking hell!" He spins around, his face the color of a blood-blister about to burst. "You're gonna regret that, freak, I promise!" A nod to his men. "Switch off the field and hold yourselves ready. If this bastard so much as winks, fry him!" Too much light again. Hicks closes his eyes, but senses his opponent just as clearly as if he were seeing him.

"Sir-"

"Shut up, Samuel, and see that you get your shit done. This ain't your responsibility!"

_'Come on, come on, come on…'_

"Sir, I must insist-" Steps from the bedroom. The shadow of the synthetic. "Sir, I'm sorry I have to remind you-"

The field's collapses and Hicks' muscles catapult him forward before he can even think about attacking. Crashes full force into Sanchez and knocks the wind out of him while crackling energy-bolts hit the wall behind the space he occupied just a fraction of a second before. Not bothering to go for the armored torso, his fist rams into the guard's face – through the guard's face! Bone shatters like china as he drives his hand into soft matter, giving it a violent squeeze as he simultaneously spins around to shove his already dead opponent into the other guards, using him as a shield.

_'Dark!'_

The hive's back, the light gone, only interrupted by blue-white bursts of energy. Current runs up his arms as the tazers hit Sanchez' corpse. The stench of burning skin and hair. Screams. The smell of fear, of prey, overpowering what human sense he still had. Two bright auras directly in front of him, starting to move apart. He's faster. Throws the corpse at the first one, taking it down with its weight, the gun clattering to the floor.

"Sam! Sam!"

The charging of the gun in front of him, energy uploading to be released into his body. He's faster, rips the weapon out of the man's hands and hammers it against his head in one fluent motion, hears it crack. The sound of blood spattering onto the floor.

Movement behind him, below. The other guard, frantic to reach his gun. A graceful spin, nothing but a continuation of the movement, resulting in another cracked skull. Both enemies sink to the floor, dead before they hit the ground, their auras darkening.

The sweet smell of blood floods his system, makes his stomach contract in unbearable hunger – and wakes his family, rewards him with their undivided attention. Hers, above all others. She knows what's at stake now – she knows if he overcomes their capturors, he'll come for Her – and free them. She lets him know she's with him, but doesn't seize his mind and holds back from taking control. He's fighting well on his own, knowing better than her what to anticipate from their human enemies, and there will be things to deal with on his way to her she won't be able to help him with. 

One more to go, one he can hardly see in this mode of vision. But sense! Picking up electrical emissions to his left, he lunges – straight into a white-hot bolt of lightning! The charge stuns him – for a micro-second. Then Her fury sends him forward, crashing into their tormentor. Seizing the gun and bending its barrel upwards with one brutal jerk – and then he meets resistance.

"Isis! Isis! Emer-"

Something clatters against the wall and shatters, something small. Hicks doesn't care. Doesn't care for the tug in the back of his mind either. He blocks it, instead focuses all available energy to overcome the synthetic he's wrestling with, their hands locked, neither one giving way. 

"Give it up, soldier," the machine says, countering his next attack. "You haven't got a chance. Even if you get out of this room-" The door behind them opens. Two more guards. "I'm here! Help me! Help-!"

The thing's attention is diverted for the fraction of a second, a lapse Hicks has anticipated. First a fast spin and then a violent push sends the synth reeling into the sputtering console behind the bed. He charges after it, hammers it into the instrument board and the bare lying circuits and feels the body twitch in the high-powered current before he releases it.

Two more enemies in the next room. Moving towards him stealthily, but not stealthily enough. Are they on night-sight? He doesn't think so. As remaining part of the squad which guarded his cell, they were ordinarily equipped. No infra-red, no night-vision goggles. He, on theother hand, can see the blue hue surrounding them clear as daylight. And even if he couldn't, the smell of human flesh, of fear and adrenaline gives them away. This should be easy.

Soundlessly, Hicks makes for the door and listens. They're wondering about the illuso. Look for a way to turn it off, but can't find the generator. He cracks a thin, malevolent smile to himself remembering where he hid it. It's part of a protrusion of the wall. Undetectable. Just as he should be. Why not have a little fun?

__

'No fuckin' time, man!' he calls himself back to duty_. 'Get moving!'_ The tug at his mind is so powerful by now, he can hardly resist dashing out of the room and go hunting for Her right now. She knows their escape is near and urges him along – but first, there are the two enemies right in front of him to deal with. Better to make it fast.

Leaving cover, he makes for the guards. Silently. Concentrated. At the last possible moment, one of them hears him, but all he's able to do before Hicks' already blood-drenched arm punches through his chest is utter one painful, airless gasp. The other man dies a tenth of a second later.

__

'Go! Go!'

The door, will it open for him? They didn't lock it behind them, did they? No, they didn't. He dashes into the corridor, the blazing overhead lights a pain to his sensitive night-sighted eyes. Which way? Changing his range of vision, he spins around on his heels, all senses. Listening-smelling-looking-tasting. No immediate danger. No humans in the near vicinity. An empty corridor. 

Allowing himself to shut his eyes, he reaches out for Her… and receives her signal; powerful and clear. Pulling him along. Down, she's somewhere further down! He takes off – and suddenly feels another signal, much closer. Garbled and messed-up, but clearly betraying its source. Raven.

Rounding the corner, another stretch of the brightly-lit corridor lies in front of him, a crossroads. Ripe with the distinctive smell of humans! Steps from several people, voices. Rustling clothes and paper. Hicks comes to a halt, uncertain, the intersection ten meters away. A group of people in green frocks rounds the corner, see him – and freeze.

"Oh. My.-"

"Is this-"

"Run!"

They take off, and for a moment, the instinct of charging after them and bringing them down is almost too powerful to resist.

__

'Concentrate! First things first. Get him out!'

He reaches out again and has found the door a moment later, frantically searching for a way in. And jerks at the sound of wailing claxons. Are they for him? Do they already know he's out? Or-

__

'Mother?' Her reassuring presence calms him immediately. 

__

'Raven? You there?' He places his hand on the little apparatus next to the door, but it won't open. Nothing from his half-brother. By the sounds of it, he's asleep, unable to wake from the embrace of the massive sedatives they domesticated him with. _'Raven! WAKE UP!!!'_ Imperative, an order. Without result. He can't get through. _'Dammit!' _

Time to resort to other, more drastic means. Diverting his attention to the device on the door, Hicks scans for a weakness. He changed the illuso, he should be able to manipulate this thing then, too. But how to do it? It's electrical signature is a mystery to him, nothing to make sense of. What part to tweak to get the necessary result? No transmission link, it's hardwired all the way, untouchable to him.

Despite the massive noise from the claxons, another part of him, the instinctive, sub-conscious part, is picking up signs of activity from further down the corridor, front _and _behind. They're coming for him!

__

'Fuck it, Raven, get your ass in gear!' He pounds at the door, feeling his already once broken hand break again and hardly cares. Leaving just a small dent on the metal. He ain't gonna get through it, at least not in the short time-span he's got left. He's got to leave his brother behind. 

"There he is!"

"Careful! Don't kill him!"

A quick glance down reveals more guards than he can count in a hurry. Only one option. He spins and takes off in the direction he came from. They're coming from there, too, but they can't see him yet. Let's surprise 'em! 

He speeds up, aware of the slapping sound of his bare feet giving him away, pure energy pulsing through his veins, all senses directed ahead of him. The corner! Without slowing, Hicks seizes it with both hands – a flash of pain from the not yet fully healed one - and simultaneously draws himself up and forwards, momentum sending him over the heads of the men that have come to intercept him. For a moment, he sees huge eyes and stunned expressions, then he lands on his feet and dashes forward without losing one beat. Tazer-shots hit the space he occupied just the wink of an eye before as he makes for the elevators. Shouts behind him; angry yells. The sound of the two squads charging down the corridor behind him, hopelessly slow. 

The pull of Her. She urges him to come to Her, to free his kin. He's so close now! He's out of the cage and stronger and faster then their enemies, he's got to make it! The image in his head is clear: _'Kill_ _everything in our way!'_

Up ahead, the corridors! No enemies. He flies down towards them when he suddenly picks up a signal, something not directed at him – and a wall of solid steel descends right in his path! Instinctively, he thrusts himself forward, an exactly timed horizontal dive that sends him rolling through the gap a fraction before it slams shut, a quick head-roll and hand-flick sees him landing on his feet. Cutting off his pursuers. Just one beat slower and it would have crushed him. The thought doesn't even enter his mind.

__

'Go, go, go!'

The elevators, straight ahead! Just waiting for him! A huge surge of energy floods his body, a combination of adrenaline and a power surge from his nanobots. He's gonna make it!

***

"Isis! Isis! Emer-"

Sams voice suddenly breaks up as I return from the bathroom after a lengthy shower. I didn't hear him properly, but his tone sounded urgent enough. I active the VidCom.

"Sam? This is Isis. Come again?" Nothing. "Sam?" Is he still in Hicks' cell? He should be. Unless something came up, or he's already done. But no, can't be. It's only 20 minutes since I asked him to go. Suddenly, I got an extremely bad feeling. A premonitionary thought causes me to reach out with the transceiver – just in time to get the notion of a bad electrical shock! Thedarkness is interrupted by flashes, blue and white, and I hear someone screaming. "Samuel?"

Suddenly, all falls apart to noisy interference, and for a moment, I get the impression of a huge, malevolent presence jumping at me – and I pull back. Opening my eyes, I see my own worried face mirrored in the VidCom. Something is very wrong.

Opening two separate lines I punch in Sanchez' and Darwin's numbers and wait endless seconds before my human sister appears on the monitor.

"Isis? What is it?"

My gaze on the other half of the screen, on the words "Connection enabled", I can't help feeling a cold chill racing down my spine.

"Something's wrong in Hicks' cell. Samuel just called me from there, and then he broke up and screamed. And none of the guards outside are answering, either!"

"How about the surveillance cameras?"

"I'm checking that now." My fingers fly over the keyboard, and a moment later the screen splits into ten different images. Hicks' cell. No transmission. Both cameras are still out. The one directly in front of the door, pointing down the corridor. Nothing. The next camera, observing the connecting corridor. And there he is, coming to a stop in front of Raven's door. I gasp. "He's out of his cell." My palm almost breaks the key as I raise the alarm, waking Phooka's claxons for the first time in the station's brief history. No silent alarm this time. People need to know that Death his haunting their corridors. Darwin's eyes widen.

"Send the guards down! All of them! But tell them they mustn't kill him, no matter what he does! Stun-shots only. If anyone kills him, I'm going to skin him alive. Isis, I want you down there with the stasis-caster."

"They don't work," I interrupt her, feeling numb with fear. "I had an incident with mine, too. We can't catch him that way."

"I don't care," she suddenly bursts out. "Get him back into his cell, no matter how! Stun him! Shoot him with tranquilizers, I don't care, just think of a way, and make it fast!" She disappears and is replaced by the chief of security's image.

"Isis? You raised the alarm?"

"Yes," I cut him off. "Send all your men down to Lab 1, Raven's cell. Hicks is out of his cell and trying to open his door. Get him back in, but DON'T KILL HIM! Stun-shots only, no matter what! Make this clear to your men! And tell them to use the main corridor. I'll be sealing off all other ways out of the complex. Understood?"

"Yes, Ma'am!"

"Then do it!" I sever the connection and refocus on the images from the cameras. Hicks is still busy with the door, seemingly unperturbed by the ruckus around him. Should I try to contact him again? Convince him to surrender? Maybe spare him and the guards a very unpleasant experience? But _she_ is waiting for me there. She probably knows I'll be back. I'm not yet ready for her predatory mind again. Not after what happened not even an hour ago! 

I watch Hicks' two-dimensional image and see him take off at the sight of the first squad, back the way he came, silently urging him to be sensible, to go back into his cell. But I don't dare raise the connection. It's all too clear to see he's his predatory self right now and possibly completely under the queen's control. No point in getting through to him as he's heading right for the other squad.

__

'Please, please, don't kill him!' I pray silently, and then gasp as he takes a giant leap over the men, surprising them. Surprising _me! 'Jesus…!'_

My turn now to stop him, but another incredible reflex catapults him through the gap just before the panel slams shut behind him. Harder to catch than wet soap! Opening the blockade to let Hicks' pursuers through, I simultaneously follow his path on the monitor. He's making for the elevators! Really? Can he be that dumb? He should know they won't move for him – except if his alien self is so much in control right now, it doesn't make use of it's human part's memories. This could be my chance to trap him! 

__

'Come on, Dwayne,' I urge him silently along. _'Come to me!'_ I punch in the key-code and let my finger hover over the 'enter'-key. I don't have to wait for long. Without so much as even a quick glance back, Hicks dashes into the first car, and I slam the doors shut behind him. Permanently. Letting out a deep breath, I lean back and run a hand through my hair. "Got you. Thank goodness."

  


He doesn't even register his sudden entrapment. If the door hadn't closed by itself, he would have done so. Opening his left palm with his teeth, Hicks presses the bleeding wound against the mechanism, satisfied to see smoke rising as the acid eats its way through sensitive circuits. This way, they won't be able to shoot at him. Provided they don't think up something he can't imagine himself, he should have plenty of time to do what he came here for.

Turning on his heels, his glance glides over the floor and walls, but what he's looking for is not there. So he checks out the ceiling, shielding his sensitive eyes with one hand. Too bright. He crouches, then jumps up high, one hand raking through the ceiling panels and shattering the fluorescent lights, plunging him into darkness. Better. With a mental switch, his surroundings become visible to him in full detail. There it is, the weakness he's been looking for. 

Another jump, almost three feet high out of his standing position, his fingers find a hold at the grating. Will it hold him? Freeing one hand, Hicks stretches to lay his palm on the cool metal surface underneath, the car's hull, then knocks against it. Thin. It should be possible. Holding on with the right hand, he lashes out with his left this time, inwardly bracing for the pain – and punches right through, the ragged metal edges scraping off the skin of his forearm all the way down to his elbow. Blood spatters down his arm and shoulder, eating off what clothes still remained on his muscular frame. He hardly notices and just doesn't care as he peels the metal back from the ceiling like the skin of a ripe orange, creating a hole that's big enough for him to pull up and squeeze through. 

The main shaft. A wide; bottomless abyss, easily 200 meters in diameter. Accommodating dozens of elevator cars and the main ventilation system. This is the source of Phooka's air supply. Here is where it's distributed into hundreds and hundreds of ventilation ducts throughout the station, a violent draft of air, howling and roaring under the mighty sound of the main generators. The safest and fastest path to the source of that siren's song in his head. All levels within his reach. 

***

"Skin? Skin, come on, dammit! This is important! Pick up!" I'm on my way up to the Ivory Tower in one of our slow elevators, well aware that I'll arrive right next to the one Hicks is in. "Skin!"

"Hold your horses, Isis, I'm coming," his breathless voice answers me after the eternity of 5.3 seconds. "Where are you?"

"On my way up. Listen, you still got those net-guns you use to catch the larger animals in your zoo?"

"Sure thing. You want me to equip the guards with them? Think that makes sense?"

"I don't know, but we have to try. Hicks may be ultra-fast and super-strong, but having five or more steel-nets wrapped around his body should slow him down for at least a few seconds. Maybe the seconds that will make the difference. Can you get them fast?"

"On my way. Where do you want me to bring them?"

"North elevators. The squads are already there and I will be there shortly."

"Okay. Give me 5 minutes."

"Hurry, Skin!" I end our conversation and ask the squad leader at the scene of crime for their status. Unchanged. Hicks must still be inside the car. And apparently, he's not trying to get out. At least they don't hear anything. I thank him and feel worried. What's our hybrid soldier up to? He should have learned by now that we trapped him. Shouldn't he try to get away? Is he already doing something I didn't think about?

Another enervated glance at the display. Another four levels to go. Should I risk it? Go into his head once more and look what he's doing? I'm afraid! But it seems to me there's no other way. Just a short glimpse, one millisecond. I can replay it and freeze-frame it afterwards for as long as I need to, but I have to go in there and get the footage, first. I program myself for the task, as I wouldn't be able to do this consciously. It takes me a second to do this. Everything's set, I just need to confirm the command. I hesitate for another endless second… and confirm.

I'm back outside before I even have the chance to register I was gone, replaying the scene I saw with Hicks' eyes in my mind. My concern was founded – he's outside the car, already in the main shaft, making his way down to… her, probably. I frown. We can't follow him there. The draft of air would be too strong for a human being; they'd be sucked right into the abyss. 

__

'I could do it.'

Yeah, right. What else, Isis? I just wished I could erase that stupid obedience-option implanted into my programming. _' Here's Ms. Deathwish! You got a problem humans can't solve? Let me try it – even if I don't want to!'_ With that thought, the door opens and I'm immediately faced with 10 grim-looking, heavily armed security guards. What now? I certainly can't tell them what I know. I'd give myself away.

"Lt. Yamato," I address their leader instead. He acknowledges my presence with a tight nod. Behind him and his men, I see Skin coming our way with three or four net-guns in his arms. "What's the status?"

"Unchanged, Ma'am. He's still in there: Didn't even try to get out."

__

'Yeah?' I think, keeping a bland face. _'Wait until we open the door. You're in for a big_ _surprise.'_

"Good. Here's what we do." I nod at Skin who pushes through the men, out of breath, and take one of the guns, knowing that my little speech will be utterly futile. As we're also losing valuable time with it, I keep it short. "On my command, one of your men will open the door with this remote." I raise my hand and give the instrument to the man Yamato assigned for this task with a simple glance. "My assistant and I will be using these net-guns to secure the subject, and two of your men – determine who – will stun him. We can't have everybody shooting, since this could very well kill him. As soon as he is secured, we'll haul ass and drag him back into his cell before he frees himself. Are we clear, Lt. Yamato?"

He nods and motions one of his men to his side. Everybody's looking extremely tense, and I wonder whether they know in detail what they're up against. I also can't help wondering what happened to the guards who were assigned to watch Hicks' cell… and to my artificial brother.

"Sergeant Takashi and myself will fire. All others," he looks at his men, "secure weapons. Keep ready, but don't shoot until I say so!" Murmured 'affirmatives' follow his order and with a short exchange of glances, I motion him to take position.

"Ready, Skin?"

"Yeah." Tense, nervous, unhappy. No doubt he was hoping one of the troopers would perform this duty for him. _'Hey Skin, no need to be afraid. He's already gone!'_ I activate the gun.

"Lieutenant?"

"Ready."

"I'll count to three." A short exchange with Yamato's man. He confirms his readiness. "One… two… THREE!" Nothing happens. "Corporal?" The guard waves his hand with the remote, but can't get a result.

"What the – I don't understand-"

Well, I do. After all, Hicks is not dumb. Looks like we've got to do this the good old-fashioned way. It would be a dicey situation if Hicks were still inside, because one of us will have to step into the line of fire to pry the door open, but I'm sure that what I saw in my mind is true… unless he sent me a wrong image to lure me in. Can he do that? Is he so much in control of his new abilities already? I decide he's not.

"He destroyed the circuits. Very well." I turn around and take the slim steel bar one of Yamato's well-prepared men is handing me, work it into the into the fissure between the two parts of the door. It only takes me a moment to pry it open. Android strength. Human can't begin to compare. Hybrids, on the other hand… 

They're all ready to shoot, but the car is empty. The ragged hole in its ceiling doesn't leave any questions open about the whereabouts of our target … nor do the little craters of corrosion on the floor right under it. He cut himself by punching through the hull. His acid blood may not be as aggressive as the xenomorphs', but I wouldn't want it on my skin, either. From the scope of the damage on the floor I judge that the wounds closed before he lost too much blood. Chances being that he's already fully healed again.

"Holy shit," Yamato utters when he sees the peeled-back hull. Apparently he didn't notice the damaged floor. Very well. One thing less to explain. "Did he do this with his bare hands?"

"Trust me, Lieutenant," I explain matter-of-factly as I step into the elevator, "he's capable of much more. This is nothing." He could be waiting for us up there, but I don't think so. He's eager to go to her. I heard enough of the siren's song in that millisecond I dived into the stream. Lord knows where he is now. We've got to find out fast, or we might be headed towards a catastrophe of much greater proportions. 

Bending my neck back, I seize up the hole Hicks made in the ceiling. If he fit through it, it should be easy for me. A quick glance at Skin.

"Call Darwin and tell her to send all the security personnel down to the alien hive: I've got a hunch that that's the way Hicks is headed. I'll try and see whether I can catch a glimpse of him." Not waiting for his comment, I pull myself up and through the hole, careful to not cut myself on the sharp edges.

"Isis-"

"Ma'am-"

I don't listen to either Skin or Lieutenant Yamato as I straighten on the roof of the elevator car in a draft of air so strong, it would have sucked a normal human being into the abyss. All it takes for me to counter it is a brief reprogramming of my balance. How did Hicks do? Did he master this storm, or-

"Isis?" Skin is hardly audible under the mighty generators' hum. "Be careful!"

Dismissing his well-meant advise as superfluous, I make my way to the edge of the car and peer down. If I'm right, he's not trying to reach the flight deck. We have to secure him before he reaches the hive. If we fail and he sets them free…

I force myself to concentrate, adjusting my range of vision and methodically scanning the huge shaft below me. Just when I'm about to look up and make sure he didn't make his way up there after all, I catch a glimpse of Hicks under one of the other elevators.

"Lieutenant?" I yell into my headset while he disappears from my sight. "I see him. He's on his way down, level 5, C-section. He's using the elevator cables."

"What if we activate the elevator? He-"

"We don't want him dead, Lieutenant: Let him proceed. Get your men down to Xenomorph City at level 13 and prepare to catch him there by using the net-guns and stun beams. Get some tranquilizer gas down there, too, just in case. Also, tell Darwin to meet you there with the stasis-caster. Tell her to recharge them – shouldn't take more than a minute – and then meet you in the corridor."

"Affirmative. What will you do?"

_'Me, I'm going to commit an act of an absolute lunacy, amigo.'_

"I'm going to follow Hicks' example and use the cable of this elevator. I can't risk letting him out of my sights. Just see to it that you open the door on Level 13 for me. I'll be rejoining you there. Hurry! Isis, over and out."

I step up to the edge of the car and feel the air pulling at me. If I were human, I suppose I'd laughed into the face of whoever suggested such a ridiculous course of action. But I know I'm capable of doing it, even with my one ruined hand. I'm at least as strong as Hicks, and my machine-mind will blend out all disturbing sensations, such as fear and vertigo. Concentrating on the task at hand, I make my way down the little maintenance ladder at the backside of the elevator car that's pointing towards the huge nothing of the shaft. Below me, another brief impression of movement. He's fast. I better hurry up!

***

He's getting closer. Her voice is so strong now in his mind now, it's overwhelming, pulling him along, soothing him. There's absolutely no fear over what he's doing. He doesn't lose a single thought over dangling over a black hole at least half a mile deep, the thought of failure and instant death not even entering his mind once as he descends the elevator cable, hand over hand, one of which he can only partially use because he's carrying a part of the elevator's ceiling he ripped apart. He's going to need it to get past the ventilators into the vents. The wounds on his forearm have long closed and he doesn't feel the slightest handicap. They have, in fact, completely disappeared. No problem there:

There's another one though. Not so much as a problem, but annoying just the same. He's starting to get hot. Really hot. Sweat's running down his forehead, into his eyes, mats his hair to his head and drenches the few patches of clothing still left on him. More importantly, his hands are starting to slip on the cable. Every few meters down, he has to stop and wipe his palms on his equally wet thighs without being able to change anything. It's slowing him down, and his human mind is active enough to know that there won't be much time left for him to do what he has to do. 

The inner heat is also getting to him. It's like a sudden outbreak of malaria, a violent outburst of fever consuming what human resources are still left in his body, draining him of his strength. Instinctively, he knows where it's coming from. It can't be a virus. He wasn't subjected to anything during the passed weeks. It's got to be the super-human activities he's been engaged in over the course of the last fifteen minutes. All the abuse his body took and repaired lightning-fast, the fights, sprints, dives and jumps…it's been a bit much, even with his new abilities. And while he's undisturbed in this shaft on his way down, he already knows in the back of his mind that there's bound to be more, right around the corner. What he needs is a break, even a short one will do, to give his body the chance to recharge. Trouble is, he can't afford to stop. The longer it takes him to get to Her, the more they'll be ready to intercept him. He can't take that chance.

_'Mother?'_

Her signal is strong and positive… and close! Despite his need for a break, he speeds up. Failing to see the slim figure that is sliding down another cable behind his back.

"Darwin? Do you read me? Over?" Interference is hell in this wind-channel. I can hardly hear myself, much less the static crackling into my ears through the headset. I get an answer, and it sounds like my bosses' voice, but even I can't understand enough to make sense of it. Hoping that they – at least – should be able to hear me more clearly, I provide them with my report. "I'm at the elevator door on level 7. The subject just passed level 9. He is really moving now. If he keeps up the pace, he should reach 13 in about 5 minutes. He's still on the C-section side. Are you ready for him out there? Over!"

Some unintelligible reply. I can only pray they'll be. 

And what about me? I won't be able to help them if I stay behind as the silent observer. I need to enter the level the second he does. The situation is dicey and could easily end with a massacre. Someone with a cool head is definitely in demand now.

Taking another glimpse at Hicks on his descend to his family, I move to match his speed… trying to block the thought that I might have to fight him in the next minutes to come…


End file.
